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along the bench from the cross and chain, and Josiah. seeing the impres- sion he was making, continued with solemn emphasis: “But. mind ye, we would not ha’ given blame to our cousin‘s Wiper- sgmq 2° Md!!!- 3nd lent has! con- “Ha, ha!” Taunston laughed dis- cordantly. “I’ truth, 'tis no wonder thou hast sprains,” he said, with deep significance, “when thou doth keep such devil’s implements about thee. Thou’lt have worse than sprains an thou takest not more care, good neighbor.” At the ominous words and manner of his visitor the goldsmith‘s face paled, and his jaw dropped as he stared at him. aghast. Almost uncon- sciously he laid the chain down. “What meanst thou?” Josiah shook his head sadly and let his long face grow longer as he said: “Oft and many a time have I reasoned with Margaret Mayland against the wearing of that idolatrous emblem, urging her that it would do her harm, but she, ever o'er headstrong, would not heed me. which fact I much Ce- plore. My mother. a woman widely known for her wisdom, asserteth that from the day our cousin brought that cross among us we have been sorely beset with misfortunes. First the drought. We have ne‘er had rain since the big storm. How can planted seed grow? And then the disease among the sheep. Our lambs most all ha’ died. Ah, lackaday, ’tis a great loss to a hardworking. saving man!” He sighed drearily. “An’, Adam, I repeat it, woe to us all the day that accurst cross was brought to this village!” The goldsmlth, possessing even more than the customary large amount 0: sn- persfltlonheklhyhlsneixhbors. glanced teal-fully about him. moving farther “This? Why, ’tis the property of thy beauteous cousin, Mistress May- land,” he answered, “who left it with me more than a fortnight since; but, mine am being stiff with a sprain I received the day it came, I had ne’er a chance before to mend it.” “Nay,” he answered sternly, “but anguish for thee, Adam, that thou in thine ignorance hath been induced to handle a charm of evil magic such as thou holdst in thy hands.” ~' "This necklet evil?” The goldsmith, having completed his task, held up the chain in bewilder- ment. Adam raised his eyes to his visitor’s face in surprise. “Hath pain, Josiah?” The goldsmith, evidently busy, had resumed his seat on his bench and was followed closely by Taunston, who | now on the subject of his favorite grievance was not inclined to go on his way until he had unbosomed him- self to his neighbor; so, taking a lounging position in the doorway, he prepared to go on with a recital of - his wrongs when suddenly he made a ‘ sharp exclamation, his glance having fallen on a finely wrought chain of gold from which was suspended a small cross that was being forged together by the skillful hands of the goldsmith. “I had a tankard of ale at the tavern, but that papist of a Frenchman, who doth intrude himself here a-dangling after my cousin, Margaret Mayland, with an eye, I trow, to the possession of her estate, lounged about the rooms with such an air of insolent eifrontery, walked past me once or twice so close be fairly trod upon my toes. acting, forsooth, as if he desired me to take open oxense at his bad manners, clanked his sword and appeared so anxious for all to admire his suit or gaudy finery that I was a’most vomit~ ed with disgust, and man, I could scarce get breath until I had put a distance between us.” “Good marrow, Master Taunston. Happen thou’it not get enough in thy hand." he said. “Hot days make dry throats.” “Thank thee, Adam.” Taking the mug, Josiah filled it and raised it to his lips, draining the last Matters of importance having taken up his time, it was late in the day, al- most at the hour of noon, when Taun- aton, homeward bound, reached the spring brook that ran by the door or old Adam Brewdie, the goldsmith. Re- moving his hat and wiping the beads of perspiration from his heated face, he knelt upon the bank and, making a re- ceptacle of the hollow of his hand, pro- ceeded to quench his thirst. The gold- amith, having observed him from the window, hastened toward him with a pewter mug. ed sharp, shrill instructions from a tree near by. With an imprecation Jo- siah kicked the maimed bird out of his path, killing it, and strode on without even a backward look. Nor did be ap- pear to see the mother bird, who in her pain and anguish swooped up and down wildly in all directions, or to hear her shrieks of agonizing sorrow. I y i HE next morning the sun rose red and hot above the hills. Not a breath of air stirred. and a close sultriness pervaded the atmosphere. Laborers going to their work mapped their brows and looked anxiously at the clear, deep blue arch of the heavens for a glimpse of a cloud that might perchance grow larger as the day advanced and spread itself be- fore the burning sun, but above the horizon not a speck of white could the eye discover. Josiah Taunston, his homespun shirt of linen thrown open at the neck and his broad brimmed hat pulled down over his eyes, came through the woods with quick strides, his feet crunching down the dry twigs with a crackling sound as he walked. A young robin, having injured its wing in falling out of the nest, fluttered and chirped in his path, and the mother bird, frantic, call- f‘ACB 139%?! CHAPTER XIII. “Bon Diem.” he exclaimed, pressing the small hand affectionately, “how art 3thou changed from the gay, laughing .- Margaret who but lately dwelt in Par- ,is! Away with such megrims, sweet! "'l‘is this dull village, filled with scowl- ing Puritans. that weareth on thy inerves, I do protest. 1' mm. win“- .ret,” he continued more ‘honghtfndy. i “a man whose lot hath been to be much ; at court as mine hath sees many sides ‘0! life. but beshrew me.if I have ever before encountered such Ignorance. in- tolerance and narrow minded bigotry as doth here exist. Otttimes when lounging about the inn and perforce listening to the conversations and ar- gumenm of these sorry wights I Iain must call for another bumper in an endeavor to raise my sinking spirits Jestldomyseltharmtromsheerde- He laughed lightly at his jest. and Margaret smiled. “Thenthemannerotmycousano- Iiah Tannston and his mum grieve me," she continued wtfly. “They Euro 33W .35an 0» :5 no HEP 'Iul :Df lib! I. all! I} |>IFII III “Nay, not now, when thou art here,” she said gently, laying her hand on his sleeve with a caressing touch, “but last night, Godfrey, I had a dream of evil omen that, I confess, hath disâ€" turbed me. I dreamt that enemies by stratagem took thee from me; then came telling me that thou wert in this place and that to taunt me. Wild eyed, my hair hanging down my back and giving loud piercing shrieks of distreSS. I followed their directions only to find upon my arrival that thou wert not there. Oh, Godfrey, ’twas an awful night! An’ the terror of it hangs o’er me today." “An’ from the looks of you black cloud methinks ’twill be a heavy one. good Giles,” La Fabienne replied; then, turning to Margaret, who at the in- terruption of her meditation had drawn a Quick breath, half a sigh, half an expression or unpleasant thought, in- quired, “Hath lightning terrors for thee, sweet?” Although large clouds had spread themselves over the sky, obscuring the sun, the heat of the afternoon seemed to exceed that of the morning. Not a leaf stirred; the dogs lay motionless in the shade panting, and the air was close, surcharged with heat and heavy. Giles, passing with a wagon load of stones, touched his hat respectfully, calling to them that relief was in sight. as the clouds were forming for a thun- derstorm. CHAPTER XIV. ' NDER a tree that spread its leafy branches over the grass that stretched out before the house the young mistress of the Mayland farm, wearing a dress of thinnest white linen, sat with her lover on a. wooden bench. Both were silent, La Fabienne watching with interest the endeavors or a young robin that was struggling with a large ground worm and Margaret absorbed in her own thoughts, that seemed from the pensive and serious expression on her race to be far away and troublesome. shop. At first he walked about nerv- ously, casting timid glances at the gold- en trinket on the bench, now glittering in the warm embrace of a sunbeam that had fallen on it; then,'as if forc- ing himself to sudden and brave de- termination, he stood erect, found a piece of paper, laid it on the bench and procured a pair of tongs, with which he lifted the chain and cross, placing them upon it. His hands trembled. Adam’s face was white and his breath came in gasps as, barely touching the edges of the wrapping, he hastily made it into a small parcel. “Other pains I ha’ had!” he muttered. “An’ all the while I was thinking that my iumbago came from cold! Ah, woe, woe! Such evil days as we ha’ fallen on! Good Lord, ha’ mercy, I pray, an’ keep us safe.” “I’ll send the wicked geu‘gaw home by Christoplwr." room, that was half kitchen, half work- After an interchange of a few more words Josiah proceeded on his way. and old Adam was left alone in his “Lord, ha’ mercy! I’llâ€"I'll send the wicked gewgaw home by Christopher.” he said, “an he comes in from the weeding.” So great was the superstition of that period, so firm the belief in charms. black art and magic, that the gold- smith, almost overcome by the knowl- edge ot his danger, fairly trembled with apprehension. in magic charms, who told me on his oath that crosses of gold were known among men 0’ his trade to be pos- sessed ot devils and to bring harm to all who touched them.” l OI (118113883, only to find 11 wert not 5 an awful : hangs o‘er rd, pressing y, “how art y. laughing relt in Par- ims, sweet! with scowl- it!) on thy Ju. ... “U“. ioughtfuily, to be much many sides [ have ever Jorance, in- ied bigotry imes when ld perforce ms and ar- ghts I fain aper in an Ling spirits n sheer de- siest. and cousinJo- other,“ .A I...â€" r Chrti-Jpher, holding his jacket close about him, with his cap in his hand, walked on quickly, inwardly congrat- ulating himself upon theifact that he had been wise enough to seek the shel- tered path through the woods instead of the open roadway that was unpro- tected by high trees. Little, sharp flashes of lightning appeared almost constantly, and the thunder was con- stant, low, threatening, ominous. In- nocent of his danger and not under- standing the harsh, growling sounds of warning from the heavens, Christo- pher proceeded on his way. Now the clouds had grown so thick and black that the forest was almost as dark as night, and the rain fell in blinding tor- rents. Soon a sharp flash of lightning ran zigzag through the sky, then a ‘ clap of thunder louder than the report ofacannon resounded from endtoend offlaevillage. Christopher gave a wild scream of terror and stood still, uncertain wheth- erto advance or go back, Although motorestwasfamnarphyxroundm him. heappearedtolosehismand staggeredonbflndlynnflhamvifld 11:21:an mum“: hefoundhhbearlngmm “mmhmmwdfi Wmmathfihmflfi Margaret, who had risen, called to him to remain; to go back and wait in the kitchen with the maids until the storm was over. but Christopher shook his head and, muttering that the gold- smith would be angry it he delayed, ran down to the turnstile, sprang over it and, hurriedly deciding that the path through the forest would be the quick- est way home, plunged into the thicket. Hardly was be under the shelter of the trees when a pattering sound was heard, and the rain beat down in great drops. Then the wind rose in a wild fury. the tall trees bent and swayed, tussling with its rough strength. and the grass and vines were swept down even with the earth, __ The boy, much pleased, caught the gold piece, dotted his cap and walked away. Just then a flash of lightning streaked the sky that by now was thickly covered with black clouds, fol- lowed by a low, rumbling sound of thunder, causing the boy to pause and look about him doubtfully. “ ’Tis finely wrought and jointed to- gether skillfully, Margaret,” he ‘said. “Here, lad,” throwing Christopher 8 gold piece; “here’s a coin for thy grand- father's trouble.” La Fabienne, who had unfastened the wrapping, was now examining the workmanship critically. Much embarrassed at coming upon the person of Sir Godfrey La Fabienne so unexpectedly, the boy hesitated, pulled his forelock bashfully, then stood still, uncertain whether to ad- vance or retreat. Margaret, seeing his contusion, beckoned him to approach. “What is thine errand, good lad?" “ ’Tis thy trinket, Mistress Mayland, that my gran'ther, Adam Browdie, the goldsmith, hath mended for thee, an’, with your leave, mistress”â€"timidly giv- ing her the parcelâ€"“he did instruct me to say that he would ha’ mended it be fore had it not been for the inconven- ience of a sprain.” One of the lads from the village com- ing around the corner of the house in their direction caused Margaret to pause. the unspoken words on her lips. “Thou flatterer, Godfrey!" Margaret exclaimed softly, her lips curving into a smile. “Such high sounding praises come easily to a com-tier. Nay"â€"she raised her finger warninglyâ€"“swearnot by"â€" “I’ll think of thine, my winsome love," he interrupted happily, pleased at the change in her mood. “a face so beauteous to mine eyes that when a remembrance of it shall flash across my mental vision I swear that all black horrors will disappear, melted away, verily, by the radiance of it.” “Right willingly would I, Godfrey. for without my dear father naught pleasant here doth hold me. But cares of the estate, the selection of a perma- nent overseer, which I find difficult; new buildings for the tenants, now in construction, and many matters of im- portance to mine interests will keep me here a few weeks longer. Clothe thy soul in patience for that small time, dear Godfrey”â€"she lifted her head quickly, smiling through her tears â€"-“an’ when thou seest a solemn face that doth depress thee”â€" “An thou say the word we go to- morrow,” he exclaimed stemly, hold- ing the small hand strongly in his own. “Margaret, methought once to go away for the nonce and then come back or thee. But now, when I go, I'll ta'e thee with me, and we‘ll re- turn no more.” Margaret slipped her hand into his with clinging fingers. “Godfrey, oh. my love,” she whisper- ed, with tears standing in her eyes, “there is a terror, an apprehension un- defined, hanging over me. The cold looks of these people weigh heavy on my heart. Take me with thee when thou goest." “And when I was going down the path,” Margaret continued, “I met Het- ty coming from the brook with the ewers. and when she stopped to give me greeting her mother called to her quite wildly from the doorway to come on at once, as it she feared I would do Hetty harm,” she concluded‘sadly. Foi- a time La Fabienne sat quietly. maintaining an angry silence; then he "Talked she so to thee,-sweet?” Sir Godfrey cried angrily. “Thou goeth there then no more! She hates thee be- cause thou wilt not love Josiah!” me "WW. ........_ _. , 7 _ ,, use. flewheniwesdmmxmed ever to mine aunt's ham to ask 9: he! the remedy she hath for the 3351de To my civil green!!! She hemmed a surly nod, did not invite me to enter and replied that she knew pt no cure tor the trouble among my sheep unless It was constant prayer. Then she ad- vised me with sneers and grin) insinu- ations to ask God on my knees to lift the evil out of my heart and to scatter the black and evil spirits that had to all appearances obtained control or sum ham mm‘ we dig this. an: echo! that: 9m; this momma one a! the shepherds 959mm m m that twa mm lamb! we” swims with me dimmer am is “mama about mm the supp, quaint 9mg!» MI and dam; , _-_--_I I -â€"-~..- gently. and Le Fablenne, bowing low, eluted his. hand to Betty, who when “I’ truth, sweet"â€"Margaret stroked her soft hair fondlyâ€""an thy disobe- dience is discovered 'twill put thy peo ple against thee sorely.” Hetty sighed. “I wot not why my mother is so hard with me. Happen I put a small flower in my hair she is greatly angered. Dost think such ornament sinful. Mar- garet?” she asked wistfuny. “Poor little Mistress Hetty!” he ex- claimed. “Didst never have other pleasure than singing psalms 1n the church?” “Nay. unless ’tls walking home from prayers 0’ nights," she replied inno- cently. Then, as helanghed again, ‘thls time more loudly. Betty became consclons, blushed and hung her head. The sight of her pretty contusion touched Slr Godfrey. , “Here, Margaret. string thy lute," he cried. “and Entree; Hetty and I will tread a measure.” Her cousin smiled. and La Fabienne broke into a hearty laugh of amuse- ment. Hetty made a shy courtesy to I; Fabienne, who bowed in his mus: s 3‘ 1y rashion. and said in a low. bum .13.. . voice, “Mother hast grown 8:. ‘HL'N Stern of late. dear Margaret, and 1..r bids me to visit thee. for what was; .‘ I know not.” The smile on Margaret's: fax-o faded. “An’ thou didst come now u'nh mu consent?" she asked. “Nay, sweet cousin. In the cm! n’ the morning mother rode down the mountain to Brother Haggott‘s. were m spend the night. so"â€"with a lime toss of her head and a light laughâ€"“um- thought not to lose the chance to get a glimpse of thee unknownst to her." “Betty! Stranger! Welcomci“ cried gayly. “Methougbt lbw L2: forsaken thy cousin.” Soon steps were heard mg). 12,..!;. from the window. they sgw 1‘.\~. Taunston, a white sunboxmut in 1. hand, running up the path. \‘CLIZ; cry of pleasure, Margaret advuuw I meet her and. taking her hand. In A. into the room. | For answer he clasped her close.- his heart. “And. prithee, happily will I slay close to their strong prote~tio;:. uh. my dear love,” she cried. wi 11 s " eagerness, “dost know how mu; 1: ti..; art to me? Who else in ail Uzi; v.3 world have I? I love thee. (Inching-Z" “Soon, sweet love. by my faith. thou wilt exchange!" he said. “Already a cage. not of gilt bars, but a huge pile of stone and mortar. with doors and windows, la in readiness for thee. From it thou art ever tree to come and go, the only bars that will over suck to stay thee being these two arms that now intwine so lovingly about thou" La Fabienne waned tenderly at her earnestness as he encircled her with his arm. “Godfrey”-â€"Margaret turned her sweet. serious face to hisâ€"“thou know- eth that thy bird rests not lightly in her mountain nest. Although she is free to fly hither and thither as she listetb. there is an unpleasant con- straint in all the air about her. 0h, bonny Paris.” she exclaimed, throwing out her hand with a swift. dramatic gesture, “right willingly would I ex- change the treedom or my village nest for captivity in a cage were it hung in thy bright streets!” Margaret, who, with Sir Godfrey. had remained in the sitting room of her house during the awful outburst of the elements, now rose from her seat and. crossing to the window, threw open the lattice. saying with a little shiver: “Heaven be thanked! 'Tis over, with no harm done. That last pea! of thunder had a murderous sound that filled my soul with apprehension. God keep all travelers and dumb animals sate!” she added seriously. La Fabienne came to her side. “If my bird is afraid of storms,” he observed smilingiy, “she should not have made her nest on the topmost peak of a mountain. so high that when the clouds grow angry and fail low she is perforce in the midst of the com- motion.” CHAPTER XV. OON the storm was spent. and S the sun, weary of hiding its hot face. burst forth through the drifting clouds that even now were dark and moved away with low. thunderous growls. heard the clanking ring of the gold coin as it fell. striking against the rocks with a sharp, metallic sound. from his stiffening fingers. The tall oak tree was struck and rent asunder; flames shot up. were put out by the heavy rifts or rain. and clouds of steaming smoke filled the forest. The large tree staggered. then fell with a sharp noise of crackling branches that drowned the sickening sound of the dull thud of Christopher's body as it tell lifeless from the edge of the preci- pice into the swirling, tumbling rapids ot the angry waters below. Nor was the clouds opened, showing light like the blast from a furnace, andâ€"oh, Godiâ€"a peal of thunder so loud that the village people with prayers on their lips fell on their knees, raising their white faces to heaven. The boy. pale with terror. on the edge of the precipice. wound his arma about the trunk of a tall oak tree. clinging to it for support and protection. He dared not move another step. and all thought of teaching the care was abandoned. Another blinding dash. followed by two more in quick succession! 'lhe poor young lad, alone on this height in the midst of the awful disturbance of the elements, frantic with terror, sent forth scream after scream that the wind and rain defied human ears to hear above their boisterous noise and din. Then mum; will his but)! and not to as new and bathe: in m was an“! be melted the top. Where was 3M». with “to! mum in w! tame“ my fear beneath Now use "mm was It! neat it named to he pinyin thrown the Man m non: RAM a! brilliant “IN. and the dark cloud: M- most touched the tops ot'uw met fiuddenly. with water intensity. the wind rushed Bhrilly ave: the nounâ€" taln. touched the cords Startled from her brilliant dream: by Simon's appearance. Hetty‘a thong“: fled from the court of the king of France and fastened them- selves upon matters or the present. the most important or which were the fufi milk pails. Springinz oil to churn and returning Simon's planed grin with an absent smile of greeting. the proceeded The thought was so pleasant to the imaginative. romantic soul of little Hetty that, forgetting to pour the milk ‘into the pans and set them away for 1 the cream to rise. she sat on the edge of the. churn. her head resting against the wall. lost in her rosy hucd day dreams. With her hand in her imagina- ry lover's. who wore a suit of light blue velvet trimmed with silver braid- ing. she was just making a low cour- tesy before the king of France when her illusions were roughly dispelled by the loud. hearty voice of Simon Kemp- ster. who having seen his adored Het- ty enter the dairy. followed in her wake to have a chat with her. From the excessive heat and the exercise of carrying a sack of potatoega long dis. tance Simon’s face was red and per- spiring: his rough suit of homespun. unbuttoned at the throat. soiled and shabby. hung loosely on his'sturdy fig- ure. and his broad taming hat made of reeds was torn and broken at the edges. He hiddown thesackandenâ€" “Was ever seen such a bonny pair 0' lovers?" she thought. “Such trust. such evidence of love in every action! Ah, lackaday. woe is me!” She sighed hopelessly. 1 “No lm er more gallant than a Puri- ltam farmer, and instead of a lute a |l milk bucket” “An I had had the roses In my hair and had worn my new lace tucker. mayhap he would ha' admired m6 more." she said. “As 'tls, perchance. he might speak 0' me to a. comrade high in favor at the French court who would (all in love with his description and come braVely here to woo me." Then as a sudden thought seemed to strike her she raised her face quickly. her eyes beaming with brightness. "Methought Sir Godfrey regarded me with a pleasant gaze." she said to her- self as she rested on a churn near the door. At last. her task finishod. she carried the heavy pails to the dairy; Although under the skillful manipu- lations or her hands the pails filled rap- idly, Betty's thoughts were not upon her occupation. but were over the meadows at the Mayland farmhouse, with La Fabienne and Margaret. The poetical and romantic vein that ran deep in this girl's nature had been touched by the afternoon's entertain- ment. The handsome dress of Sir God- frey and his gallant bearing. combined with the exquisite beauty of Margaret In her soft flowing gown of white linen. caused Hetty's little heart to ache with sympathetic yearning. Other evenings Betty sat down to this occupation cheerfully. usually sing- ing lightly to the accompaniment of the sort sound of the milk streaming into the pail. but tonight the task was distasteful to her. She took her seat with a jerk and exclaimed lrritably when the cow. in order to brush a fly from its back. whisked its tail across her face. “Keep still, thou old beidam cow! Dost think I want mine eyes scratched out o' myhead?” she ran down the roadway to the fence. sprang over the stile and went hastily in the direction of the pasture. where the cows. unaccustomed to such irregularity. had assembled at the gates. bellowing low plaintive calls {or release. Breathless and panting. IIetty let down the bars and. picking up a stick. proceeded to urge the cattle to a greater rate of speed than was usually necessary. If her mother had return- ed unexpectedly she was lost! Fright- ened at the thought, she gave the last cow in the line a sharp prod with the stick, who, not accustomed to such rough treatment. looked back at her reproachtuliy. then galloped awkward- ly ahead of the others. The cows once in the barn, it was a matter of a few moments to collect the pails and stool for milking. was after milking time when Hetty bethought herself ot the lateness of the hour. Hun-ledly saying her farewells. In reading and pleasant con'rtrse the afternoon passed so rapidly that it must excuse him, Betty, as he knows not the pious customs of our mountain people. - Come, dear Godfrey. read to us from thy new volume of Will Shakespeare. ’Twlll delight sweet Betty. who hath great love for poetry. and as for me." she added, with a smile, “thou knowest the sound of thy voice is ever music in mine earl." "What ails thee, man, that thou would ask n Puritan mid to dance? Thou Sir Godfrey. inclining his head cour- teously, walked any, and Margaret threw down her lute, interposmx hastily to cover Betty's embarrass- ment. in; is a sin that and: the soul to eter- nal punishment. for so our preacher hath ever taught us. and my brother Jonah would cut me out of the house an he heard I indulged in such prac. an? m M in bi? belie! am “1 mm: refute thee.” _...,. ._ _....... . “Love thee?” Hetty gave her head a toss. “Whoe'er put thoughts of my loving thee lnto thine idle brain? Nay. silly. Look not so downcast." she cried. “an' take my best assurance that our friendship hath not been in vain. for so dear I hold thee in my heart that but e'en now before thou spokest thy foolish utterances I was making plans for thine advancement.” "But know this, Simon Kempster, that 1'1! 1111' none of thee. Dost think I would bother with thy little my tarmwhenlmnbomlstreuota grand estate? However.” she conund- “Betty, what nonsense is this?” 81. mon cried in desperation. "What man Is this thou lovest?" “ "Its no man that I e‘ er seen as yet.” Betty continued her pacing up end down. ~ “Foruthon knowest. Simon." she con- tinued. with a patronizing nod, “me- than to marry ~a French courtier who will come anon on a white steed to woo me and take me back with him to Par- is, there to set me up In a grand palace, with countless serving men and worn- en to do my bidding.” Unable to understand and much he wildered, Simon watched Betty as she alrlly lifted her skirts and, holding her head very high, walked up and down the dairy in imitation of a grand lady. “thou dost not love me, Hetty?" he asked solemnly. “An’ all our sweet friendship is to go for naught?" “Coward," she cried. “to hold 1 maid against her will! Dost think I want a cowboy for a husband?" He loosed his hold 1nd drew back as it stung, with staring eyes and a face from which all color had gone. "Art gone daft, Simon? Ha' done, I tell thee!" she cried in angry surprise. struggling to tree herself from his strong embrace. “Betty, say the word.” he entreated. “Promise to be my wife. Plight thy troth with me." Returning for another pan, with her heart and mind full of her good intenâ€" tions. Betty bestowed a more than or- dinary sweet glance of esteem and kindly feeling upon her visitor. whose heart. always full of love for her. ached now to bursting with fancied encour- agement. Only when wearing his new churchgoing black suit. he mought, had she ever given him kinder glances; so, regardless of his untidy appearances he clasped the astonished Betty in his arms, and thoughts that for months had been filling his mind now took the form of words and sprang from his lips in sentences expressing his passionate love for her. “Poor Simon," she thought as she carried the first full pan to the but- tery. “What a kind friend he hath ever been to me. There’s many a loneâ€" ly hour I would ha' spent without him. When my lord doth come and I ride away I shall not forget Simon. Hap- pen nnon I may have influence to have him made lackey at the court." Stepping to her side, he asked her for a mug of milk. Betty's pleasant after- noon and her consequent happy day dreams had left her in sort of an up- lifted stale. She wished good fortune to all and gave Simon the refreshment he demanded. with a smile of happi- in: at her white throat, he thought of the silver heart lying on her {air bosom that he hnd given her and that she had received with so much pleasureâ€"a sweet secret sate between him and Bettyâ€"and his honest heart gave a great throb. Fanning himself with his broken hat, Simon watched her from his place at the door with admiring eyes. It oc- curred to him that Hetty had never be- fore looked so pretty. The red color in her cheeks had heightened: her eyes were brighter: she held her little head I higher, and in his estimation went ' about her homely task in the same manner as would have a queen. Look- I m file it? of pew’tfi' [Tans with the white foaming milk. morRIhs' treatment 1 regained my health and strength. I am sound as a be" toâ€"dny. and__gi\'o Psychine all the and nervous Lhwh over- work and worry. as u mix. for work. had no 11;;le uul few as it I had out, a! inlezcxtin life. Ioontncted a series of colds from chang- ing winter weather. and gradually my lungs became ufl'ocwd. Itnod remedynftcr remedy. and a number of doctor: prescribed for me. but got no relief. I began using Psychinc. Aéftcr Itwq Believe me. I m Ml, as mailed to tell you of my recovery with Pr 'chinc as on are to hcm- o it. Last all I became weak. run down flYu,'odd SeeksC-reil Lih'l Unis “I Cures. Javin. Gui {PW Dr. T. A. Slocum. Limltcd. 173 ELL-.1 1.: ancx ALLAN. All Draught. Free 'Pric! 02¢: 00:2:- Scck Saicty in Psr’ckaixc mm mwmumnma. “mu: m Will the sight than? Vex, look! 'ficfi‘ttcr-z hr, count: and now m a tow worm-mum the” v-uxfcrin:r v. .. ,6 at. an end. And to you also comes the glad mom. Fo_r months. even van perhaps. you have bot-u lirn‘rv held In the grip 0! some disease. ' now eager-3y you have sought relic: 1m: ;.22 3:: \ .-. now you an annual. u «esp-u. Yo: Mr you were is 5’31“; The Ila!" 0! knowledge In -. reunite}: PSYCFr-f‘ a. «11...: cum.- fur :JI Throat Lad brag !'- H'm'» ‘ Pneumonia. Plane-hr. Loft” â€"' "w, ' Hmr‘hflh _ mnpflon. Lassa-(£2. Tuiau-fiznnts . “ r W can: bc orig-cum. .' «mu. 1;; t1. .- wag ‘ At IaSt the morning dawns when their hope: nro 7 1109!! I: (he gallant $.10! They short and w: u: Lheu- parched tat-oats can wan-c mu-x- .1 5011.41. m 3 wonderful wont! to those who. {or days per? .pq have been adrm- on the wide am. How eager-2y every i-‘unriae they have smmm-d the in ~ ,. 3 in the hope of some friendly sail. PSYCE‘HNE (’mnonnccd 9'-’-‘tâ€"g I'm: GrcaSest c! at! Tam - “I saw him not, good Adam,” the dame replied, “but I walked rapidly, as I am in haste to reach the house of Sister Hemming, that my son brought me word an hour since had been vis- ited by the Lord with an amiction or numbness, so I bethought me that my prayers and services might be‘of use It the bedside. Did thy lad stray “my?” “”I‘wu after the hour of noon that I oent him to the Mayland farm with a trinket that I mended for the young mistress." he replied. “I’ truth I would not ht' been in such good haste to send it had not thy zoodeon Josiah warned me of [tenable evil contained in the "plot symbol at the golden cross." The woman threw out herhand in a m M suggested hopeless msig- mathematheold mans let III]. M him harshly with M W Odd: {Thou digs: “Ah. bless me. Mistress Taunston!" he exclaimed in surprise. “Methought 'twas Christopher. Happen didst see that good for naught as thou didst come through the forest?" Just then a shadow fell across the threshold. Adam came forward ex- pectantly. CHAPTER XVI. l DAM, the goldsmlth, waited late that afternoon for Christo- pher’s return. Impatient at his delay and angry at the light of the unfinished chores, he paced up and down the room restlessâ€" 3 ly, pausing at frequent intervals to look out of the doorway with nervous anxiety toward the forest footpath. l “ ’Tis passing strange” he muttered. “The lad’s neer done the like before. . It he‘d a thought or tear I’d say the storm delayed him. but such things as thunder showers ’ud ne’er bother Christopher. Nay,” shaking his head. “the lad's willful and careth not that the chores are undone." o’ “Hetty. hast forgotten the love verses?” His voice was entrouxing. “’nle verses! Ha, ha!" She laughed again, this time more merrily. “To speak 0‘ your silly rhymes as verses, fox-sooth! Why, body 0‘ the, good Simon. thou shouldst buy :l book of good Will Shakespeare‘s verses: :zD‘ then thou‘dst know what poetry is. an' ne'er more speak again. I warrant thee. o’ thy nonsensical rhyming." Something must have snapped in Simon's heart. it went down with such a bbund. Blindly he turned and groped his way out of the house, not seeing the sack of potatoes resting on the ground. tripped and almost fell over the house dog lying asleep in the shade and strode on with head down- east over the wet roadway, into the dull shadows of the approaching twi- light. “Thy wife! A common far: r: a? wife?" Hetty laughed a Ion r pry LLg' laugh of amusement. ‘ Va} :oodf Simon, thou must seek my x:.;.1e‘ among thine own farm loving kind. As ‘ for me, I will wait the arrival of my' gallant courtier.” ‘ “By all this talk then thou doth mean that thou canst not love naeâ€"mat thou’lt never be my wife?” Kempster turned his back upon m and walked away. At the door Le paused. “Fie, Simon," she giggled nervousgy, more afl'ected than she knew x-gv m seriousness, "out upon thy crass mm Thy solemn countenance would :H: a body the megrims! Who said we could not be friends?" “Then thou hast meant nothing by any fair words thou might have me- ken?" He came and stood before her “,3, white, drawn (ace, depicting dwlm'ute earnestness. 1n the provinces. Think on that bright futureâ€"Wm: joyful anticip.“ goodSimou." mind slightly troubkd by the hater: hearted expression in her ('0H)]uhh.u;“g eyes, “think not that I will forgot rim, Simon. Why, who knoweth but ; may make thee overseer of one of my Tums SAVED 9 (Continued on 015997 two) LL V3,. 11 y Table Q Men’s si BELLAEW A Very preu'; ‘ ized at the “NH1 parents, Mr. and baim, on Wednu: o'clock, when 7“ F-. ms uniu-d h C. Bellamy, .n‘ F G. Smith, of Boil The bride lonko-d in crepe de chum fon pleating, :mc boquct of whim bridesmaid. Mm was Very pram”! mulle own hlm- 1 quct of pink can was gixen .ma) ‘ Harry MCGN, m" I“ UI‘S C 131‘ prlce: for two \« 22â€"10 Pieces 23â€"5 Pieces 24-â€"â€"Prints 5c. Art iclc 16â€"Bleached 1 7â€"62 inch B 18 â€""'0 inch B 19â€"18 inch L 20â€"18 inch F. 21â€"White Fl 12 -Men's “1 13â€"White I'n 14â€"Men’ Lia 15â€"Men's W11 A rt iclc Article lâ€"\'\'hite CI 2â€"Lonsdalq 3â€"White L: 4â€"Whitc at 5â€"White Sh 6-Laflies’ l 7â€"Ladies’ .\ 8â€"3.; yards 9â€"Lace Cm 10â€"Curtain 1 11â€"6 Ladies You will the tel‘i; two and represeu If your commend yo1 regards to ql ter than regu Headqu“ Shirt m be: for “1 down I and Ow District! At the Volu ACO These th