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rn jj 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 EE It \N n’HU it VET JB,.. f) >-J G LA 1 VlLLEv 'T U WI: i pr ic ice b v d-» Stir v ey i r i g a r yw h ♦* re by spec hi I con trap!... i i i om Ts^vv . i a r 11 a m , & - iux-n&Y laCJir F.llHITRN, fJEUhGIV. 'ViU pi n-» ion in hll . i ini.CjgiUi 1 h J o - St.-iti- -in-i |<\ tier • I. ^ In n fit n to q j; E.s pfiMSSfig ■« ').! III l-C! (11 )V| II >• II i-.!i». ill. i, l! i id ri^Mit'ily i||> Sn|-i-1 i-.1 .in l i ti.i'i' ecu i tn t)l 1 »oiij!n- iMiTiliTy. rti*’ <9 *-» <■ I • f) f«>r sfiinlimu• .*< entitelv iVm<>vCfI, 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- jfiy p tud’ jr it l« tea or any -ar ielt- of o*Ll. (Hire< s ua:- »nt‘ c »*. $100 Wig fe Paid F** v any c->e <^f d-unkenn^SR that Odder isp'»< i{i« wi l l U’*t cure.. < ’ircnhirs o^'nlain int t i! m o vt i .<1 s a n ti m H gsr-t ty u 1 a-rs r.« n t. ivu A«lrlrc*R U t> X. li K «5 L< H VI Fit 4; Q. 3 : MsM $ m I x_>^- O ifir* mm ■ THE g iEITTiilg, ? ' This modi cine, P-cunbirdn^ Iren with pnj» table tonics, quickly ana Completely f ('sUvCA-Ilpt^PMiAf indigestion, WeakneiU^ i ] iap«ro Bi««s^falarii^€iiillsaBd verts, r n4 NeMralfie.. o , It is an uiimiling reihedy j»r Diaeasefl 01 tb« Kidneys WMl lArer. At U- invaluably for Diseases peculiar to yfonmti, and all who load sedentary 1 ires. It does not injure the teeth, cause headach^or produee ooiiBtipaiiQfi-nofAer Iron medicine* cfe. It enriches and purifies thebTdod, stfhfulates the appetite, aids th^ as#imi>afcion of food, r©- ileye* Heartburn and Belching, and strength- t myscles and nerres. Foi* Intermittent Fcvors, Lassitude, Lack of GKnergry, 4«j., it has n© equal. . iSu?- Thjg genuine has above trade mark and vft'sed rhd 1 ines on '■ wrapper. Take no other. * ^.\y kr BKOWK SHEMfeAl. «0^ BALTIttOUfi, fiS& CUEBSflTEB 0TO33AC® i Bjr th« tae of Hostetter’s Stom&eh Bltt«rs tho : ho^gard appearance of the oonnta- nanca ami Eallowness of dyspeptics are supplanted hy ft healthier look, ond a« tb* food Ls assimilated, the body acouires snb- atiwoe.. Appi^ite is restored, end thenerT- otu system refreshed with mpeh seeded tlnmher, through the use of this medicine, Which Is also baesfiiaial - to persons of a rheiunstie temlfHOjr, ami an luestimable prnrentlv.; of Iirf-r and syue. . 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