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Vol. Vll.-NQ. 4,
Douglasville, Georgia, Tuesday, February 241885.
Subscription • ftl.08 C«sh
Per Annum.
Job el M. 2Ddg© 3
•/vioiix'g'r .?r Mr.
D o-ug la s vill 0, “ 0*».
W I !. I. pructice' hi all the courts, arid
promptly atSend/to all business U-
rusted to his care. -
T. S. BTJTL SK
X3rona.jsse> ttintor
DOUGLAS? V ILJ.E, - CiA.
W Hj I> make oldfurinUire lpoh a>. w 11 ■ s
new* Givehirii a trial in this line. Will
A1 s«v do ho use e-\ rnenteri'n «r wo rhe,- ' ;
, g. qRidSir”.
A T T (> R N E Y A T L A W *
Frbii,gla§vilfc>, Gear (jda- r t
W I LL practice in all the court? rotate
and Federal. . jauiSly.
F v B» Verdery,
, ' Physician and 'Surgeon.
O FFIOEXt HTJmON & EUGE’S DltUG.
STORE, where he can , v ba found: at all
hours ex ce pt when p r oTess ion all y engaged.
Special attention 'given ;o Gh ionic cate?, and
esecially all eases that have been treated and
w still uncured. jap 13 -5,ly.
Respectfully offer my 'services as physi-
T clan andisurshony to the-,people of Dougr
-sville au d vicln ity. A1 ''ehlls will be attefl-
ed promptly. Lari be found ?it tHedrng store
df Sjidspn.ifc Edge,>during tha day' an|^&t
bight at my residence at the house recently
occupied by J. A. P.ttman.
J. B. EDGE
Dr. T. E. WHITLEY,
Physician and- rurgeon,
. o-o,/gila-^-Yiilo, - %3r£\
S .PE >[ Afj at.re viffon giy en to. Surgery -a
On ro ii ic Fe m 11 e iron h ies. Office up sta ir
A ” i; *T‘rOi,XEY \T n vw, CIV df, E NG1N
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W\mJ t r«*:» ! in• M t. _ M' d|ci%♦-•trap he a; 1 * - jji in is ;
f f»r*ii m*i' hmft kuovvi i.iiro -tii p- t ie•' t, hy s jm-
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■ THE g
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At U- invaluably for Diseases peculiar to
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Which Is also baesfiiaial - to persons of a
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. Jfoc eaie by ah Driisr Uis anil Dealers
. m . - & S'eiiriaily. ... .'.if'
By THOMAS HARDY.
CHAPTER XL
Margery’s face flushed up. and her neck
and arms glowed in sympathy, - Tho
qiiickno;s of youthfjjl imagination and.;
the assumptive.iess of v/oman’s reason sent
her straight as an arro/.v this thought: j
‘•'He wants to marry me!•’
She had* heard of similar strango pn>-
ceedings, iu w'hich the orange flower and
the sad cypress were intertwined. People
sometimes wished t on their dealh-beds, •
from ipQlives bf esteem, to form a legal tie;
which they .had not careil to establish as> a
domesfeie dno during their active life.
' For a fevy inomenti ’ Margery couM
hardly be called excited ; she was excite
ment itself. Between surprise and mo.d-
esty she blushed and trembled by turns.
She became gifiv^e, sat down i‘n the solitary
roorii, and looTfed into the |fire. At 7
o’clojk she rose resolved, and went quite
tranquilly ups.airs, where sho.speeiiily be
gan to dress.; s
In making this hasty toilet nine-tenths
of her care was given to her hair. The
summer hail left them slightly brown, and
she held them up and looked at them with
some misgiving, the fourth finger other
left hand more ospe iaiiy. Hot washings
and cold washings, certain products from
bee and flower known only to country
girls, everything sho could think of, were
used upon those*little sunburnt hands, till
she persuaded herself that they were really
as white as couid bo wishdd by a husband
with a hundred titles. Her dressing com
pleted", she left word with Edy that she
was going-for a long walk, and set out in
ttib direction of Mount .Lodge.
Sho no longer tripped Lke a girl, but
walked like a womnn. While crossing the
park she murmured 4 *BKroness Xanten ’ in
a pronunciation of her own. Tho Sound
of that title caused her So much agitation
that she was obliged to pause, with her
hand, upon her heart.
The house was so closely neighbored by
shrubberies-on three of ikes sides tnat it was
not till she had gone nearly round it that
she found the lilt!© door. The . resolution
she had been an hour in forming failed her
when she stood at the portal. While paus
ing f r courage to taiy a < arriage drove up
to tlio front en:ranee a little way oif, and
peeping round the c-ornor she saw alight
a clirgyinan, and a gentleman in wnom
Margery fancied that she recoguGed a
well k ••10W11 sol icit -r from tho“ neighboring
town. She had no longer aa^' dohbt of tho
nature of the irrcnTony prop • svl; -fGt
sudtfjm --but i must .obey hmi;” ©lie inur-
i.nurod, a mi.--'ta-ppo 1 /phr times.
d6M>was i.vjM3:;qd so quiykly t.hivt t**e
«or;,vant. injirit. hdvo, been "’standing , im-
inrfle.'- thivugnt Ividi the
'man wjv> iiad driven tnym to the i^ill—the
silent iua« who* could be^trusted, XVithoufc
a word ho oondmred her up the back
staircase, and tlirough a door at th© top,
into a wide corridor. She wu* a*ked to
wait in a little dressing-room, where there
was** •re, and m) old metal-framed look
ing gbus o-^er ti e mantel-piece, in- whioh
she ta tgiit sight ot h*jr»oif. A red spot
..biiracd m each of her obe-ke; the rent of
her face was pal#; and her eyes were like
diamond* oi fho flr»t water.
Before she had be*« seated many min
utes, tab man rlsn hivek nolaele<sly, and
slw foiin-wed him a 4o*»r «*or«rcrti by a
red-oiid-hlA&k curfeiki, which be lifted and
ushered her into a' terge chamber A
screened light slood oa a table before her,
and on her \€l% the hangdog* of a tail dar*
four-poet Volstead oVitrnoted her view «f
the center of the room. Everything hern
seemed of such a magniToeot type to her
©yk* that she f*K confused, diminishod to
half h->r height, half her strei>gth, half her
prefr*• © <. The rran who had condn ted
her lodred at ei^ce, and somo one came
eo t y round the angle «f the l od-curtains.
He held oeft his band kindly—rather pairo. •
isingly -ft was the solicitor, wh- m she
knew by sight. This gentleman led her
forward, e« if she had been a lamb rather
than a woman, tBl tho occupant of th© bed
was rerea’ed.
lire Baron's eyes were dosed, and her
entry had been so noiseless that ho did irot
opoo them. The pallor of his face nearly
matvhfd the white bed-linen, and hie dark
hair aVd h*avy b)a<?k mustache were likq
dashes' orf ink on a clean page. Near him
sat the parson and another gentleman,
whom she afterward learned to bo a Lon
don phy dei-m, and on the parson whisper
ing a few words the Baron opened his eye*.
A* soon as he saw her ho smiled faintly,
and helcl out his hand.
Margery would have wept for him, if she
had not been too overawed and palpitating
to do anything. #h© quit© forgot what she
had cow© for, shock hands with him mo-
chanieally, and oouM hardly return an an
swer to his weak ‘H)oar Mrrgory, you see
how I ara—hoW are youP
In preparing fof marriage she had not
caloulated on suoh a scene as this. Her af
fection. for the Baron had too much of the
vague in it to afford ^her trustfulness now.
She wished ihe ha<l not oorao. On a sign
from the Baron the lawyer brought her a
chair, and the oppressive silence was
broken by the Baron’s words.
“I am pulled down to death’s door,
Margery,” bo said; “and 1 suppose I soon
shall pass through. . . . My peace has b<«eai
much disturbed in this iilnessr for just be
fore it attack©-! mo I received—that present
you returned, from whitli, and in other
ways, I learned teat you had lost your
chanee of marriage. . . . Now it was 1
who did the imrm, and you can imagine
how the news has affected me. Jt ha*
worried me «ll tlie illness through, and I
cannot dismiss 1^ error from my mi ad . . .
I want to right the wrong I have done you
before I die. Margery, you have always
obeyed me, and strange as tho request ma)’
be, will you qjoey me now?’
She whispered, or saenied to whisper,
“Yesf”
‘^Well, then T w said the Baron, “these
three gentleniiui are here for a special pur
pose: one bell** the body-*—he's ... oaile<i a
physioian; another helps the —he's a
parson; the other helps the understanding
r-he’s a lawyer. 'They are here partly on
is@y acoownt, and q>artly ea yoyrs.
The spemker then nmdo a sign to the la.^L
.y» j* ; who W'otvt out of the dctor. He can^
'back almost iustantly. b^it not alone. Be^
hind him, dresspd up 'in bis be^t clothes,
with a flower In his buttonhole and a
bridrgroem’s air, walked—Jim.
CHAPTER XII.
Margery could hardly repress a scream.
As for flushing and blushing, she had turned
hot and turned pale so many times already
during the evening that there was really
now nothing of that Sort left for her to do,
and sh9 remained in; complexion much as
before. Oh, the mockery of it! That
secret dream—the sweat w or cl “Baroness!:’
which Had sustained her all the way along.
Instead of a Baron there stood Jim, white- !
waistCoated,*d©mure, ovary hair in place,
and, if she mistook not, even a deody spark
iu his eye. ,
Jim's surprising presence on the scewo
m *.y be briefly accounted for. His resolve
to seek an explanation with the Baron at
all risks had proved unexpectedly easy;
the interview had at once been granted,
and then, seeing the crisis at which matters
stdbd,' the Baron had generously reveale r
to J im the whole - of bis iiideb tedness td-
aff.l knowledge of Margery. The truth of
the Barbu’s statement, the inn been t nature
©!■ the acquaintaitfceship, his sorrow for the
rupture he liaii prodiwed, were so evident
that, far from having any further doubts
of his patron, Jim fr&hkly aske i hi* advice
on the next step to be pursued. At this
stage the Baron fell ill, and desiring much
t«j see tho two young people united before
his death, he had sent anew to Hayward,
and proposed the plan which they were
now about to attempt—a marriage at tin
bedside of the sicx man by special lieen.ie.
'] he influence at Lambeth of som^ of the
relatives of the Baron’s, and the charitable
bequests 01 his late mother to several de
serving church funds, were generally sup
posed to be among the reasons why the
application for the license wa* not-refuse i.
Tnis, however, is of small conse^iuenco.
The Baron probably knew, in proposing
this method of celebrating the marriage,
that his enor.'nourf power over her would
outweigh any sentimental obfctac-Ies which
she might set up^inward objections that,
without his pres *nce and flrAiness, might
prove too mu# for her acquiescence.
Doubtless ho foresaw, to ), the advantage
of getting her into the house before making
the indiviauality of her husband clear to
her mind.
. Now the Baron’s conjectures were light
as to. tee event, but wrong a* to the mo
tives. Margery wa< a perfect little dis
sembler on some occasions, and one of them
was when she wished >o hide any sudden
mortification that might bring her into
ricLuie. fcfae had no sooner recovered
from her first fit of discomfiture than pride
bade her suffer anything rather than re
veal her absurd disappointment. Hence
the scene progressed as follows:
“C-oin) herOj Hayward,” said the invalid.
Hayward camo near. The Laron, holding
Hyr haaidflh one of his own, and her lover’s
in the other, continued, “Will ) 01, in spite
of vour rocent vexatiorri with her, marry
her now if Hie does not refuse.'” ;
‘fl will, sir,” .miid Jim promptly.
“And Margery, wivat do you snyt It
m *rely a setting of tbiuga r -Sht. . AY i m4 L
ba vv' arready pro-nked this young mam to
bo his wife, and should, ©f course, perform
your promise. Y*m don’t dislike
“Oh. no, sir,” she said, in a low, dry
voi'*©.
“I like him better t?haa I eah tell yo«, w
said the Baron. “He is an honorable mui,
and will make yon a good hn^bami. You
must rememirer teat marriage is a life oon-
tira+tf in which general cmapatib'ility of
temper and worldly poeition are of more
importance than fleeting passion, w>.Ldi
never tong survives. Now will you, at my
earnest reqtiest, and bef ore I go to the so\?th
©f Europe to efts, agree to rna 1 ^ ttiis good
man hap'yjr? I have ry. your rirvrs
on th© rub^eot, hav©n*fc % Haywardf 4
“To a T, sir,” said Jisn, empb^itieftlly,
with a motion of ravdng his hat to his in
fluential all*>y, ti’l he rememboroii be had
no hat on. “And te ott &k ^ ooul.i hardly
expect Margery to gie in for my asking, I
foe is she ought to gie in for yo irs.”
“And you accept him, my little friend!•
“Yes, sir,” tee murmured, “if he’ll agree
to a thing or two.”
“Douiitloss be wilt—what are theyF 1
“That I shall riot i*e made to live with
him till I am in tho mini for it; and that
my having h m shall be kept unknown for
the present.”
“Well, wbat do you think of it, Hay
ward ?”
d 1 Anything that you or she may wish TH
do, my ii- ble lord,” said Jim.
“Well, her request is not imr©'%9ona >
seeing that the proceedings are, on ray »
count, a little hurried. So we'll ppooec
You rather expected this, from my allu
sion to a cei emony in my note, did you not,
Margery ?”
“ Yes, sir,” said she, with an effort.
“Good; I thought so; you looked so little
surprised.”
We now leave the scerie in the -bedroom
for a moment, to describe a very peculiar
proceeding that might have been watched
at that time in a sp^t not many yards off.
When the carriage seen by Margery at
the door was dri ving up to Mount Lodge
it arrested the attention riot only of the
young girl, but of a man who had for
some time been moving slowly about the
opposite lawn, engage! in some operation
while he smoked a short pipe. A short ol>
Fervatien of- his doings would have shown
that he was sheltering some delicate plant
from an expected frost, and that he was
the gardener. "When the,light at the door
fell upon the entering forms of parson and
lawyer—tin.) former a stranger, the latter
known to him—the gardener walked
thoughtfully round the house. Beaching
thd'small side entrance ho was further sur
prised to see it noiselessly open to a young
woman, in whose momentarily illuminated
features he recognized those of Margery
Tucker.
Altogether there was something curious
in this. The man returned to the lawn
front and perfunctorily went on putting
shelters over certain plants, though his
thoughts were plainly otherwise engaged.
On the grass his footsteps were noiseless,
and the night moreover being still, he
could prw-ently hear a mumuring from the
bedroom window over his head.
The giardner took from a tree a ladder
that had been used in nailing that day, set
it under the window, and ascended ha.f-
way, hoodwinking hi* conscience by seizing
a nail of two ‘w4tb his hand and testing
their twig-*uppcrfcis*g power*. He soon
h-esrd enough to satisfy, him. The words of
the marriage service in tee strange parson’s
voice were aucftble in snatches through frh®
blind; they wee© the words he knew to be
part of the servf^e, such as “wedded wife, ’
“richer or”foorer,’ 'ani ao on; the less
familiar parts being y a meyo confused
sound.
Satisfied that a wedding service was
being solemnized there, th© gardener did
not dBeam for a moment that one of the
-cdlitraeting parties could be other than the
sick Baron He descended the ladder and
again walked round the house, waiting
only till he saw Margery emerge from the
3ame little door, when fearing that he
might be discovered, he withdrew iu the
direction of his own cottage.
This building stood at tlio lower corner
of the garden, and as soon as tflo gardener
entered he was accosted by a handsome
woman in a widow’s cap, who called him
father, and said that supper had been
ready for a long time. They sat down,
but during the meal the gardener was so
abstracted and silent that his daughter
put- her head winningly to one side and
said, “what is it, father dear j”
“Ah, what" is it? *_• erie i the gardener.
XSomgbkipg. that, makes: very little differ-
fneeto mej; blit may be of great account
to you, if you play your cards well. T/ierc's
bticn-a wedding at Ike Lodge lo-niyht /” He re
lated to hdr, with a caution to secrecy, all
that he had hear 1 and seen.
“We are folk that have got to get their
living,” h© said, “and such ones mustn't
tell tales about their betters—Lord forgive
;ho mockery o’ the world!—but there’s
jomothirig to be made of it. She's a nice
maid; so, Louisia, do you take tho first
3han e you got for honoring her, before
others know what has happened. Since this
is done so privately it will be kept private
for some time—till after his death, no ques
tion; when I expect she'll take this house
for her*elf, and blase out as a widow lady
ben thousand pounds strong. You being a
wrj||pw, *he may make you her company-
ceeper; and so you’ll have a home by a
; ittle contriving. , • ;
While this conversation progressed at
the gardeners Margery was on her way out
of the Baron’s house. Jbhe was indeed
marriud. But, as wo know, she was not
married to the Baron. The ceremony over,
which she seemed but little discompose!,
and expressed a wish to return alone os sho
had come. To this, of course, no objec
tion could be offered under tho terms of
tho agreement, and wishing Jim a frigid
good-by, and the Baron a very quiet fare
well, she went out by the.door which had
admitted her. On>*e safe and alone in the
darkne-s of the path she burst into tears,
'hicri dropped upon th«> grass as she pass
ed along. In the Baron’s room she had
ieemed scared and helpless; now her rea-
on and ©motions returned. The farther
be got away from the glamour of that
room, and the infiuen e of its occupant,
the more she became*©! opinion that she
had a led absurdly. Bhe had disobedi-
mtly left her father’s house to obey him
3-r«. bh© had pleased everybody bat her- 5
>e ! f.
However, thinking was now too late.
•-Tow the got into her grandmother's house
•fee hardly -know; but wffchoat a supper,
<nd wiihout confronting either her relative
• r Edy, she went to bed.
‘ CHAPTER XilL
On golpg out into the garden next morn
ing, with a strange sense of; b*ing another
person than hers'df, she beheld Jim leaning
mutely over the gate.
He nodded. “Good-morning, Margery.”
he iaid civilly.
“Good-morning,” said Margery, in the
*ame : tene.
“I beg your pardon,” he oontinued.
“But whieii way was you going this morn-
ing?”
“I am not anywhere just now,
thank you. But J shall go to my father’s
by-afxd-by with lSly» ” Bhe went on with a
sigh, “1 have done what bo has all along
wished—that is, married you; and there’s,
no longer reason for enmity at ween him
and in
“i rue—true. Well, as I am going the
jamo way, I can give you a lift ki the trap,
Tor the distance is long.”
“N.q, tharik you; I am used to walking,”
she said.
They remained in silence, the gate be
tween them, till Jim’s «onvictious would
apparently alJ iw him to lol l his peace no
longer. “This is a bad joo; ’ h© murmured.
“It |s ^ she said, as one whose thoughts
have onl3 T too readily been identified. “How
I came to agree to it is more than I can
tell.” An*: tears b?gra rolling dorvn her
cheeks.
Jim paused. “Well, you be she by law,
and tiiat was all I meant,” he said, mildly.
“I said I would acknowledge no such
thing, and I won’t. A thing can’t be legal
when it’s against the wishes of the persons
the laws are male to protect. So I beg
you riot to call in© that anymore.”
“Very well, Miss Tucker, * said Jim, defr
erentially. “We can live on exactly as be-
i fore. W e can't marry any body else, that’s
true.; but beyond that there’s no difference^
and no harm done. Your father ought to
be told, .1 suppose, even if nobody eGe i-<.
5 It will partly reooncil© him to you; and
iria?kv* your life smoother. ”
* _ instead of directly retiring, Margery ex-
j chimed in a low voice:
“Oh, it is a mistake; I didn’t see it all,
j owing to not having time to reflect! I
agreed, thinking that at least I should get
I reconciled to father by the step. But per-
| hap<$ he wo^’.lil as soon have me not mar*
! ried at all as married and parted. I must
ha’ been enchanted—bewitched—when I
gave my consent to this! I only did it to
please th*t dear good dyin'i nobleman—
though why he should have wished it s*
much 1 < a n’t tell!”
“Nor I neither,” said Jim. “Yes, we’ve
been fooled into it. Margery,” he sa d, with
extraordinary gravity. “He’s had his way
wi’ us, and now we’ve got to suffer for it.
Being a gentleman of patronage, and h<v-
ing bpught several load* of lime o’ me, and
having given me all. that splendid furni
ture, I could hardly refuse.”
. “What, did he give you that'’’
“Ay sure—to help me win ye.”
Margery covered her face with h«r
hands; whereupon Jiru stood up from toe
gate and looked critically at her. “ ’Tis a
cruel conspiracy between you two men to
—ensnare me!” sho exclaimed. “Why
should you have done it—why should he
have done it—when I’ve not deserved to be
treated so? He bought ihe furniture, did
he? Oh, I’ve been taken in-r-i’ve been
wronged!” The grief and vexation of
finding that long ago, whoa fondly- believ
ing the Baron to have lover-like feelings
himself for her, he was still conspiring to
favor Jim’s were more than she could
endure.
Jim, with distant courtesy waited,
nibbling a straw, till her paroxysm was
over, “One word,. Mi*s Tuck—Mrs. —Mar-
gory,” he then commenced, gravely.
“Ytou’li find me man enough: to respect
your wish, an i to leave you to yourself— :
for ever, and ©ver, if that’s all. But I’ve
just one word of advice to render ye. That
is, that before you go to Stickleford Dairy
yourself you let me drive ahead and let me
call on your father. He’s friends with me,
and he’s not friends with you. I can break
the news, a little at a time, and I think I
can gain his good-will for you now, even
though the wedding be no natural wedding
at all. At any count, I can hear what he’s
got to say about ye, and com© back her©
and tell ye.” .
She nodded a cool assent to- thi?, and he
left her strolling about the. garden in the
sunlight while he went on to reconnoitre as
agreed. It must not be supposed that
Jim’s dutiful echoes of Margery’s regret at
her precipita-e marriage were all gospel;
and there is no doubt that his private in
tention, after telling the old dairyman
what had happened, was to ask his tempo
rary assent to her caprice, till, in the.,
course of time, she should be reasoned out
of her whims and induced to settle down
tvith Jim in a natural manner. He had, it
i* true, been somewhat nettled by her firm
objection to him, and her keen sorrow for
what she had done to please another; but
he hoped for the best.
But, alas for the astute Jim’s calculations!
He drove on to the dairy, whose white
wall* now gleamed in the morning sun t
made fast the hor38 to ti ring in the wall,
and entered the barton. Before knocking
he perceived the dairyman walking across
from a gat© in the other. direction, as if ho
had ju*t come in* Jim went over to: him.
Since tlxo unfortunate incident on ^ the
morning of the intended wedding they ha 1
merely been on nodding term**, from a sente
of awkwardness in their relations. ?
. “What’, is that thee?” said Dairyman
Tucker, in a yoice which unmistakably
startled Jim by its abrupt", fierceness, ‘‘A
oretty fellow thou be’st!”
It wa* a bad beginning for the young
man’s life as a son-in-law,. and augiired ill
for the delicate consultation- he desired. G
“What’s the matter?” said Ji n.
“Matter! I wish some folks would, burn
their lime without burning other folks’
property along wi’ it; You ought to be
ashamed of yourself. You call yourself a
man, Jim Hayward, and a honest lime-
burner, and a respectable, .market-keeping
Christian, and yet at fl o’clock this morn
ing, instead o’ being where you ought to
ha’ been—at your work, th ?re was neither
velLor mark o’ thee to be seed!”
“Faith, I don’t know what you be raving
at,” said Jim.;
“Why, the vlankers from - thy couch
heap bio wed o-er upon my hay-rick, and
the rick’s burnt to ashes: a id all ’to come
out o’ my well-squeezed pocket. I’ll' toll
thee what it is; young, man. . Triero’s no
busines^ dri y®. I’ve kiiqwn Stickleford
folk, qui k and dead, for the last couple o*
score year, and I’ve never knowbd brie so
three-cunning for harm as thee, my gentle-;
man lime-burners; and I reckon it one o’
the luckiest days o* my life when scaped
having thee in my family. That maid of
mine'wa-t right; 1 was wrong.- She seel
the© to be a drawlacheting rogue, and ’twa*
her wisdom to go off that morning and get
rid o’thee. I commend her for t, and I’m
going to fetch her home to-morrow.”
“You needn’t take the trouble. She’s
coming homo along to-night of her. own
accord. I have soon her this morning, and
she told me so.”
J :“So much fha better. I’ll welcome her
warm. Nation! " I’d sboh-r see her mar
ried to the parish fool than thee. Not you;
you didn’t care for my hay. Tarrying
about where you shouldn’t bs, in bed, no
doubt; that’s what you was a doing. Now
dent you darken my doors again, and the
sooner you be off my bit o’ ground, the
better I shall be pleased*”
Jim looked, as ho felt, stulti.te l. If[ the
rick had been really destroyed a little
blame certainly attached to him, but he
could not understand how it had happe’ned.f.
-However, blame or none, it was clear he
could not, with any self-respect, declare
-himself to be thl* peppery old gaffer's son-
in-law id the face of such an attack as this
For months—almost years—the one trans
action that had seemed nocjssar}' to com
pose these two families satisfactorily was
Jim’s union with Margery. No sooner had
it been completed than it appeared on all
sides as the gravest mishap for both*, Stat
ing coldly that he would disboverij.how
much of the accident waa to be attributed
to his negligence; rifld pay the damage, he
went out of the barton and rtturned the
way he had conr©. ^
Margery had been keeping a lookout for
him, particularly wishing him not t enter
tho house, leaf others should see the serious
ness of their interview•; aqd as soon as she
heard wheels she went to the gate, which
was out of view, ,
“Surely father has been speaking roughly
to you.;” she. said on seeing his face.
“Not the least doubt that he hov r ” said
Jiriiu
“But is ho still angry wi te mo?”
. “Not in the least. II#S waiting to wel
come yo.” -- :
“Ah! because I’ve married you.” *
“Because he thinks you have not married
me! He’s jawed 111© uphill , and down,.;
He hatrs ms; nnd for your sake I have not
explained a word. ’
Margory looked towar 1 home w Lth a sad,
severe ga;©. “Mr. Hayward,” she said,
“we have .made a great mistake, and we are
in a strange position.” y
“True; but I’ll teli ye what, mistress, I
won’t stand—” 4 He stopped suddenly.
“Well, well; I’ve promised,” he quietly
added.
“We must suffer for our mistake,” she
went on. “The way to suffer least i& to
keep our i own counsel on what happened
last evening, and natto meet. I must now
return to my father.”-
H» inclined his head in indifferent, assent,
and 4he went in-doors, leaving him there.
CHAPTER XIV.
M A.RGRRY returned home as she had de
cided, and resuined her old ljfe at Stickln-
ford. And seeong her father’s animosity
toward Jim, she told him not a word of the
marriage.
Her inner life, however, was not what it
once had been. She had suffered a n»entai
and emotional dispiaoement-r-a shock,
win ah hail set a shade Of astonishment oa
her face as a i»ermaneut thing.
Her imljgnation with the Baron for coi-
bfrter, le^eaei
the ' Hvpee of a few WWkS, "at
length vanished in th© interest of some
tidings she received on© day.
The Baron was not dead, but ho was nV
longer at the lodge'. To-the snrprU© of the’
physicians, a sufflcfeut improvement hal
taken place in his condition to permit of
his removal before the cold weather cam©.
His desire for removal! had been su-’h, in
deed, that it’ wa# advisable to carry It out
at almost any risk.- The plan adopted hal
been to h&ve’ him borhe on men’s shoulder*
in a sort of palanquin to the shore, a dis
tance of only a few miles, where a steam
yacht lay awaiting him* in a little oovo.
By this* means the* noise and jolting of a> ^
carriage, and several miles of turnpike* J
road, were avoided. The singular proces
sion over: the fields took place at night, amf
Was witnessed by but few people, one being"
a laboring many who described the seen©
to Margery. When the sea side wag
reached » long narrow gangway ,wa*
.laid from the deck of the ya flat to th*’
shore; which was scr steep in the cove a#
to allow the yacht to 1 lie quite near. The?
men, with their burden, ascended by th<y
light of lauterns, the sick man was laid In
the cabin, and as soon m his bearers had
returned to the r shore tlve gangway was re
moved, a rope was heard skirring over wood
in the darkness', the- yacht quivered, start
ed her wheels, sprb \d> her woven wings to
th© air, and moved away through tho min
iature pillars of Hercules'which form© 1 tho?
mouth of the cove. Soon she was but »
small shapeless- phantom upon the wide
breast of the sea.
It wa< said that.the* yacht was bound for
Algiers.
When the inimical autumn- and winter
weather came on, Margery*wondered if hef
■were still aliv©. The house being shut up,
and the servants gone, she had- no* means 0£
knowing till, on a parfcioular Sunday, her'
father drove her;to market^ Here, in at
tending to his business, he lefAh'ir to her--
self for awhile^f Walking iii a quiet street
iri the professional quarter-of the'town, shv
saw coming': toward her the soli itor who
had been pros mt at the wedding, and wh©
had acted for ther B-ir >11 in yariou< smaH
local matters during his brief residence at
che : Lodge. • G
j’ She reddened* to peony toiteky averted her
eyes; and would have passed him. . But he
crossed over arid barred the pavement, and
when- she met hi© glance; he was looking
with friendly severity at her. The street-
was quiet, and be said in a low voio©^
“How’s the husband-j”
i “I don’t know, sir/’ sriid shot
I “What! and are* your stipulations abouft
secrecy and separate* living, still in forcer*
| “They will always be,” she replied, de
cisively. “Mr. Hayward- and I agree oir
the point, and we have not the slightest-
; wish to change the arrangement.”
“H’m. Then ’tis Miss Tucker to tb©
world, 1 Mrs. Hayward to me and one or'
two others only.”
Margery nodded.^ Then*, she nerved her
self by -an^^ .effort;,- tiixdthaugh -blushing
painfully asked, “May ^ Fut- ona question,
sir. Is the I Baron 3 dead ?” . ^ ‘
“He is dead to- you- aj»d to all of us.
Why should you ft^k ?”
“Because if he’s alive^ X am sorry I mar
ried James Hayward. If he is dead I d©
not much mind my marriagri.'’'
‘‘iafepeat, he is- dead to you,** said- thw
lawyer, emphatically.' “I’ll- tell; you all I
know. My-professional services for him
endefl with hi < departiw© from this place;
bat I thinx I should' liav© behf&*£rom him
if he h‘ad been alive stillv I have heard
j not at all ; and this, taken in connection
with the nature of his 3 illness, leave* n<?
doubt in my mind that he ie-<dead. ”
j Margery sighed, and thanking the lawyer'
she loft him with a tear for the Baron in
her eye. After this incident she becama
more restful; and the time drew on for her
periodical visit to her grandmother.
A few days subsequent to her arrival h©r
aged relative asked bor to- go with a mes
sage to her gardener at Mount Lodge (wh*#'
still lived on* there, keeping the grounds In-
order for the ; |ancUord>.- Margery hated
that direction ririw,. But she wont. Tbe>
lodge, which sli© saw over the trees, was to
her like a sxull from which thev warm an-l
living flesh had vani hcd. Xt was twilight
by the time she reached the cottage at the
bottom of the Lodge gar dor*, and the room
being illuminated within, she saw through
‘the window a woman sha had; never seers
toforo. S-h© was dark, and rather hand-
tome, and when Margery knocked sho
Opened the door. It was the gardener*s>
widowed daughter, who had been advised
to make friends with Marjory.
She now found her opportunity/ Mar
gery’s errand Wan soon • completed, th®
young widow, tp her surprise, treating her
: with preternatural respect, and afterwafti
offering to accompany her honni Margery
was not sorry to have a companion in thw
gloom, aiKi .they walked together. The*
widow, Mrsw Fea*h, was demonstrativ»*
and coiifi iential, and told Margery all
about hefself. She ha-1 come quite’ re
cently to live with her father—during tb*
, Baron's illness, iu fa't—-an4 her husband
! had been captain of a ketch.
“I saw you one morning, ma’am,” she
said. “But you didn’t see me. it was
when you were crossing tfc® hi;£ in. sight ©f
the Lodge. Y01 looked at it t and sighed
’Tis the lot of widows to sigh ma’am, is Itf
riot?” £ . ^ b ■
“W^idowsJ-yes/ I suppose, but what de
you mean?” 1 ■
Mrs. ^©ach lo)v.9fed her voice. T eanftf
say more, ma’am,. , with proper respeotr
But there seems to b© no question! of the
poor Baron's death; and *h©u&h the«e for
eign princes can .take as my husband used;
to tell mejf what- they cod lo t handed
wives, and leave them behind when they go
abroad, widowhood is widowhood,. 1©1V
banded cr righL And really, to be the left
handed wife of a foreign baron ie rietder
than to bo married all round to a ecmtaoa
man. YouM excuse my freedom, ma’am;
but being a widow hiyself, I har© pitied
you from my heart ; so young as you ar^
amd having to keep, it a secret, and (©*«*
cusing 'nfe} having no moout of biy
vast riches because ’tis. swallowed up wy
Baroness Number On»/’ •
Now Margery did not understand a word
mote of this than the bare fact that Mrs*.
F$9>ch suspected hee-to b*3 the Baron’s un
endowed window, and such was the milk
maid’s nat re that she did not distiuetly
deny.the wi ow's impeach;n©nt. _ The latter
eontinued: ? , # ^
“But ah, ma’am, &T your trouble© are
straight backward in your memory, while
I have troubles before as well as grief he.
hind.”
“What may %li©y^be, Mrs. Peach?” ir\-
crnlrei Marjory, - with a slight air of the-4
Coatmutd^ca f.h, Page, ,*
DOOB