LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VII, Issue 785, 27 December 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

o THE MILLER’S DAUGHTER. (Concluded.) ‘ Will youl accompany me to the house, Miss Patterson ?’ he said, calmly. Before she could reply, though she arose as if to assent to the proposal, the prostrate bully sprung to his feet, and exclaiming with clenched teeth — * I’ll be d—d if she does, ’ drew a glittering revolver from his pocket, and mad from the blow he had received, aimed it at Guy, whose back was turned towards him. Quick as the lightning, a little white arm flashed upward, struck the deadly weapon and the shot whistled harmlessly away into the ether above. Baffled in his attempt, the ruffian with an oath, dashed the courageous maiden to the ground and rushed upon Guy, but the figure that just then emerged from the bushes behind him was too quick for him, and the astonished Mr Slater found his arms pinioned to his sides by the iron grasp of Bob’s servant, Brown, while Bob himself, appearing but a second after, presented the gleaming barrel of a revolver in perilous proximity to his blanched and terrified face. ‘ Aha I Mr Slater, alias ‘ Teddy the Smasher,” your game’s up,’ exultiugly exclaimed Brown, displaying a w r ell known shield upon his waistcoat. ‘ Here, hold him, some one.’ Guy stepped forward and assisting Bob, the prisoner, despite his desperate attempt to free himself, soon found his arms firmly united with a pair of iron bracelets, furnished by the smiling Brown. While this operation was being gone through with, the astonished miller followed by his spouse and Vic, appeared. They stood in amazed silence till Brown arose from his knees, and then the old couple began a volley of exclamations and questions to which Brown replied with a smile, and Mr Slater by casting his eyes upon the ground where he kept them immovably fixed. Bob was more complacent. Turning to his interlocutors, he said—- ‘ It’s a long story, Mr Patterson, but the short of it is this : Mr Slater is a distinguished member of a gang of a noted fraternity of thieves. About three months ago he came into the bank of which I am cashier while I was engaged in a conversation with my friend, Mr Guy Marstou. Expressing a wish to see one of the clerks who was out, he loitered around my desk till Guy had

left, and then giving me a sudden blow with a slung shot, he reached over the grating, seized a package of bank notes and made good his escape. Although we have had detectives in search of him for some time, he eluded our grasp until our friend Guy, coming here by a mere accident, recognised him by the singular way he had of stroking his moustache. Guy wrote at once to me and the result is before you,’ *Do tell,’ gasped the miller, overcome by the enormity of the offence of his would-be son-in-law. * I allers told you that feller was a bad un, but you would have him loafing around,’ said the affectionate spouse to her husband. Aghast at the new light upon the question, the miller shambled off, leaving his wife to follow Brown, who was leading away his captive. ‘Guy,’ said Bob, turning around, but Guy was gone, and in his place stood the brunette. Being a self-possessed young man, Bob did not blush as Guy would probably have done. Concluding to await his friend’s return, he began a joking conversation with his fair companion, by discreet manoeuvres contrived to have her sit down in the arbor, and when, an hour later, the hostess came out to announce dinner, she found them so absorbed in laughing at each other’s witticisms, as to be oblivious to all extraneous circumstances. * Ain’t Mr Marston here ? ’ said Mrs Patterson. ‘No,’ replied Bob, much surprised by the question. ‘ I thought he was at the house.’ ‘ And Dell’s gone 'som’er’s too; I hain’t seen her either,’ continued the lady. ‘There they are,’ exclaimed Vic, and as she spoke, Guy and the miller’s daughter were seen approaching at a short distance. ‘ Where have you been, Guy ? ’ asked Bob. ‘ Taking a walk,’ quietly responded Guy, though his exultant smile spoke volumes more, while the new light in his fair companion’s eyes would have betrayed their secret to less discerning spectators. That evening, the strangers and their captive departed, but no one was surprised but the worthy miller, when, after a week’s absence, Guy returned to make a formal proposal for the hand of his daughter. His suit was accepted, and soon after the villagers had a theme for conversation in the modest wedding solemnised in the little village church. The happy Guy and his bride then left for their elegant northern home, while Bob, anxious as he said, to keep Vic from missing her old companion, continued to make frequent trips to the quiet little village. The second proposal which resulted from these frequent visits, did not take by surprise the miller. *He was not to be caught napping again,’ he said, ‘ and tho’ Vic was a little purt and sassy like, she was a right good gal in the main and would make Bob a good wife.’ A year has passed away since Guy’s eventful visit. The miller, consoled for the deprivation of his ‘gals,’ as he proudly calls them, by their frequent visits to the homestead, and conscious of possessing an effective weapon in his verbal combats with his spouse, astonishes his neighbors by the alacrity nf his movements about the old mill, though from the liberality of his son in-law he is freed from the necessity of attending to his old duties. Mr Slater languishes behind stone walls and iron bars, there to dream over the perilous uncertainty of human affairs, while his quondam friend, the miller’s wife, sti’ives hard to forget and have others forget that she was ever misled by his dashing exterior. Proud of their respective wives and still firm friends, Guy Marston and Bob have found a new happiness, and never, when they meet to smoke their post-praudial cigar, do they fail to congratulate themselves on Guy’s eccentric journey after quietness and the happy accomplishment of Bob’s semi-prophecy concerning the ‘ miller’s daughter.’