oud of

ot so stupid,

great Taskmast

meditate, m

e against a d

tural life-time,-co

's Auror

a small primitive place set in corn-fields, with long sloping fields of grain, alternating with sm

on the other the busy port of Pierrepoint, with its bustle and traffic, its long narrow streets, and ceaseless activity. Sandycliffe lies snugly in its green hollow; a tiny village with one winding street, a few whitewashed cottages grouped round a small Norman chur

quire the services of a curate, and especially a hardworking man like Mr. Anderson; but a sad affliction had befallen the young

it was absurd that such powers should be wasted on a village congregation, made up of rustics and old women; he must preach from some city pulpit; he was a man fitted to sw

ice-to work in the corner of the vineyard allotted to him. His inner consciousness, indeed, told him that he had capabilities for a larger sphere, a wider range of work; when the call came he would be read

. In the full prime of youth and strength the mysterious doom of blind

d Raby Ferrers, who had lived with them from childhood, and had been the spoile

e case, or why the girl should have abandoned her home when Raby Ferrers was lying on a b

hed; back from the shadow of the valley of death he came, mutilated, scarred, and victorious; and like blind Samson, led by a boy, he one day electrified his people by enterin

. Bound by his ordination vows, he still gloried in the dignity of his priesthood. Sunday after Sunday saw him occupying

ill-paid, overworked curate of an East End parish with a large

d, led by his faithful Johnnie, Mr. Ferrers penetrated into the winding alleys, and carried comfort to many a sick and dying bed. And as Mr. Brabazon grew more infirm, it became a rule to Mr. Ferrers to occupy his pulpit on Sunday evenings, and it was always

earest and closest friend, never heard a repining word from his lips; neither did he waste his strength by silent brooding-the activity of his

d to crush him. Sometimes when Margaret was reading to him, he would make a sign for her to stop, and, laying down the book, she would watch him pacing up and down the gree

ntimacy that had grown up between the brother and sister, it was seldom remembered by either of them that they had different mothers. Colonel Fer

e, but little was known in the village; only, when Margaret was seven years old, and Raby a lad of fourteen, there was a grand funeral, such as Sandycliffe had never witnessed, and Mrs.

is glass of milk that one summer's morning the little church-yard was full of loite

s-to keep it company. After granny came old Samuel Tibbs, the patriarch of the village, in his clean smock and scarlet handkerchief, followed by his youngest grandson in all the glories of corduroys and hob-nailed boots. Young Sam, as they called him, was the youngest of fifteen, who had all grown up strong and healthy under the thatched eaves of the low, whitewashed cottage down by the pond. There the fifteen young Tibbses had elbowed, and

e on the oak bench, when as usual two strangers took their pla

n the village knew that the tall, broad-shouldered man with the fair beard and handsome, aristocrat

he white mustache that occupies the other end of the seat; and Margaret, sitting with the school-children, looks curious

d and stately presence; but the bright, sunshiny smile that greeted her from Hugh Redmond is certainly not reproduced on his father's somber fa

, and fine delivery seemed to rivet him; he sat motionless, with his thin hands grasping each other

g her white gown with patches of prismatic color-a bordering of crimson and blue and violet-and giving a golden tinge to her dead-b

alked up the aisle to inspect the chancel. He evidently thought his son was following him, for he turned round once t

made grave, but she turned with a smile when she saw him stridi

"why have you not waited to speak to

lover's question seemed to pain her-but sh

ld I meet Sir Wilfred when he is st

's turn now to look uncomfortable. "What a little puritan you are

I should have felt awkward and constrained in your father's pr

ou think; my father was tired from his journey yesterday. I am afraid he is in very bad health. I confess I am anxious about him. We had so much to talk about, and he is so f

and trul

r; now say something k

urch-yard to join Raby, who was waiting for her at the g

as been talking to me for a long time; he asked after you, but o

only be one

her dignity, and read Hugh a lesson, and I hope he will profit by it. I do believe

n Hugh; he has promised that he

on has made me very uneasy; it was not treating you fairly, Margaret,

ling Sir Wilfred everything, but the letter never reached him. You are g

he knew that she was blind to Hugh's faults-that she believed in him

for every day showed him new beauties in her character. But his knowledge of his sister made him doubt the wisdom of her choice; in his heart he had never really approved of her en

s defects. He knew Hugh was manly and generous, but he was also weak and impulsive, hot-tempered and prone to restlessness; and he m

nly feelings, and he worships Margaret. But in my opinion the wife should not be superior to the husband; if there must be weakness, it should be on the other side." And here Raby sighed and gave himself up to melancholy an

ile ago and his own life had stretched before him, bright, hopeful and full of enjoyment, and then a cloud had blotted out all the goodly land of promi

chful speech, but he had taken her hand a

she said softly, as she felt his care

rthy of my Margaret. Come, is not that a lover-like speech; Hugh himself might have said it. But here we ar