dows went to the public-house, flung himself on his

ealousy, cold with despondency, and for the first time smarted with remorse. George Fielding was gone, g

rned into my eyes and my heart forever; I am in hell!-I am in hell!-Hold up, you blundering fool; has the devil got into you, too?-Perdition seize him! May he die and rot before the year's out, ten thousand miles from home! may his ship sink to the bottom of the --. What right have I to curse the man, as well as drive him across the sea? Curse yourself, John Meadows. They are true lovers, and I have parted them, and looked on and seen their tears. Heaven pity them and forgive me. So he knew of his brother's love for her, after all. Why didn't he speak to me, I wonder, as well as to Will Fielding? The old Jew warned him against me, I'll swear. Why? why because you are a respectable man, John Meadows, and he thought a hint was enough to a man of character. 'I do suppose I am safe from villainy here,' says he. That lad spared me; he could have given me a red face before them all. Now if there are angels that float in the air and see what passes among us sinners, how must John Meadows have looked beside George

lips white, his teeth clinched and his eyes blazing! The mare took everything in her stride, but at last they came somewhat suddenly on an enormous high, stiff fence. To clear it was impossible. By this time man and beast were equally reckless; they went straight into it and through it as a bullet goes through a pane of glass; and on again over brook and fence, plowed field and meadow, till

into water; this seemed to do him a little good. He came downstairs; he lighted a pipe (we are the children

on business. He sat for hours by the fireplace.

ings were visible; one, distant four miles, was a whitewashed cottage, tiled instead of thatched, ador

assmere farmhouse, where the Mertons lived; t

a plain old woman-a Methodi

worldly people, sti

nticles or psalm-singing at odd hours in his house. So she pref

nd checked all complaints of him, and s

gularity and affectionate grace of clock-work; never asked her if she did

Susan Merton's house, Meadows went slowly to his window and pulled d

f this strong temptation. I swear I will go no more to Grassmere Farm, never so long as I love Susan." He added faintly, "Unless they send for m

e never was seen in before. Next he wrote a note and sent it h

at it. "Why, this is from John, I think; what can he have to say to me?" She put on her spectacles again, which she

ome over and stay awhil

ful son, J

oman to a neighbor's daughter t

girl of fourteen,

d ink, girl, out of the cupboard, and I'll write him a word or t

he hasn't spoke to a soul since. That's all I know, missus. I think so

, after placing the

or man, Dick Messenger," said the disciple of John Wesley somewhat grimly.

k to Farnborough, missus?" said M

l write

t house-that it would seem quite strange to her to go into the town after so many years' quiet-but that if he was minded to come out and see her she would be glad to see him a

ried her unfinished letter. And as she began slowly to fold it

eared in t

hy, if the wench hasn't got them on her arm. Wha

nah. "Your warm shawl is

nds about it, so I don't see how the child could be sure," said she, dividing her

for that matter," r

e, I wonder?" said the old woman, now

se it's your son, ma'am-and yo