A Wonderful Woman, By MAY AGNES FLEMING, Author of "Guy Earlescourt'e Wifo," "A Terrible Secret," " Lo&t for a Woman, "A Mad Marriage," etc. CHAPTER XIV. DAY OF WRATH! DAY OF CRIISI!

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 424, 30 November 1889, Page 5

A Wonderful Woman, By MAY AGNES FLEMING, Author of "Guy Earlescourt'e Wifo," "A Terrible Secret," " Lo&t for a Woman, "A Mad Marriage," etc. CHAPTER XIV. DAY OF WRATH ! DAY OF CRIISI!

TiiKitK was dead silence. All eyes fell upon her ab once ; all rose as she came gliding forward, l'assionaio, impetuous, impulsive, what would she say — what would ho do ? In that dead silence she comes floating forward, u shining bridal vision -whiter than the robe oho wore — white, cold, calm. In all her life this girl had never restrained oe single emotion — now in the supicmc | hour of her life her pale face was as emotionleso as though carved in stone. She camo stiaighb up to Sir John and looked him full in the iaco with her largo, solemn eyea. ' I ha\e been there since you came in' — she pointed to the curtained lecess, and her voice had neither falter nor tiemor. 'And Iha\e heaid every woid. Is it all tine?' Ho turnod avvny from her and covered his tacc with lm hands with a tort ot dry sobbing sound haul to hear. •Is it all true?' &he lepealed, slowly, | painfully. ' I want to know the worst.' ! ! ' Then Heaven help mo ! Yes, Ivathtrine, it is all true — all — all ' 1 And I am nob your daughter ?' 1 You are nob! Oh my dailing, forgive nis. If I h.id loved you lesfe I might have [ hod coinage to toll you the truth.' Her faca had never changed from its stony calm, her dark, dilated eyes nover left his. •And this is the sect et this woman has held over you so long ; the societ 1 begged you to toll, and you would not — that 1 am not your child ?' 'it is ! Once moie forgivo me, Katherine 1' She lifted his worn, thin hand in both her own and kis&ed it. 1 Theie can be no such word between you and mo, papa. T only rea'iso now how much I owe you — how infinitely trood you have been to me. You have been better to me than any father ever was to a child before, and I— how lia^ licpaidyou? But I wish I had known— l wish I had known. Mr Dantreo' — .sho turned to him for the fhsb time ; for the first time the brave voice faiteiod — ' what havo you to say to all this?' 1 That I have boon gios^ly deceived,' Mr Dan tree answciod, lifting his gloomy eyes with sullen anger ; 'gio^sly deceived from first to last.' ' But nob by mo. Do mo at least that poor justice. And now '—she slowly drew nearer to him — 'how is ib to bo? You swore >ou lo\cd me, and me alone. Now i& the time lo piove youi truth.' He stood sulkily silent, shifting away, howcvei, fiom the gaze of bho-o solemn, touching eje:*. The spectatois looked on —Mrs Vavasor with a face of triumphant, malicious dolighb, Peter Danger field lull ot vengotul exultation, and tho old baionct with eve 3 beginning to Hash ominously. The &il\ or thining figure of the bride stood on the hcai th-uiir, the dull ted glow ot the cinders lighting her luridly up, waiting for her false lo\ er's answer. It did nob come ; after that one fleeting glance, he stood staling doggedly into the fire. • lam answered,' Kathctino said ; * and ! oil the warnings I received wore light. I might have known it ; I was a fool, and 1 am only reaping a fool's ie\vard. It was the heiress ot Scaiswood you wanted; the eight thousand a year you loved— not plain Kabheiine DangciHeld. Take your ring, JNJr Pan tree, and thank Heaven — as J do — that truth has come to light an hour before oui marriage instead of an hour after. Take your ling, and go !' She diew ib ofl, and held ib out to him. . He started up as if to obey. ' Cur&e the ling !' he exclaimed, ferociously ; ' throw ib into the file it you like. / don't want anything to icmiu.d me qf this night's woik. I say again,' i aiding hh \oice, 'I havo been shamefully bucked and depeived. I'm a good deal more thankful than you can. posbjbly be that th,c truth has come put in. tjme. A.nd now, as I tuppoce e\ ery thing has been said that ib i;- nece?->aiy to say, J may take my departure at once, and for all.' He seized his hab, and strodo toward tho door. J3ub bhe ba'l, soklicily figuie of the baioneb interposed. •Stop, sir !' he thundered, in that ringing \oice that had otton cheered hi? men to lieiccsb battle ; 'all has not boon said that ib is necessary to say. Do jou mean that this re\ elation shall prevent tho marriage '1 that, in a woid, you refuse to marry my adopted daughter, bccau&e she is> not the heiicos of rearswuod ?' Uasbon Danbree met the old soldier's fiery, flashing glance with sullen defiance. 4 Precisely, Sir John ; 1 refuse to marry your adopted daughter either to night or at any futme time. It was tho heiress of Scaiswood I wanted, vot the plain young lady, who, if she will paidon my fcO3'ing it, made &uch vciy hard running upon mo tint--' ! lie never finished the sentence. With the cry and spring ot a tiger the Indian oflicer was upon him— all the strength of his youth back in his rage. ' Coward ! liar .'villain!' he thundered, grasping him by the throat. • Cur ! that it were slander to call man. Lie there !' He grasped him by the throat, lifting the short, light form as though it were a child of three years, flung open tho doordragged him out on the landing, and with, all the fury and might of madppss, hurled jiim prushing down" the oaken stair.- 3 . Mrs Vavasor's shrieks rang blnough bhe house — Peter Dangerfield rushed headlong down the stairs. With a dull thud bad to hear, Dan tree had fallen on the oaken I floor, and lay a bloody, mutilated heap now. The uproar had roused the liouro; gue&ts, servants, bridesmaids, all came flocking wildly out into the hall. Peter Dangerfield Ijad lifted the head ol the prost^ate raon to, his knee, and wa.s gating into thp deathlike face, almost a* deathlike himself, « Is he dead ?' Captain De Vere asked tho question, pressing impetuously through the throng. No one in that supremo hour asked what had happened ; instinctively all seemet 1 to know ho had refused at the last moment to marry Kitherine Dangerfield. The dark head moved a little, a faint moan ot pain came from the livid lips. It was a terrible sight. From a tremendous ga»h above tho tomplo tho bright blood gushed over face, and bosom, and hands. 'Not dead,' Petor Dangerfield answered, in a very .subdued voice. 'Do Vere, (ji'tuca ami Obis are hero somewhoie, are bjiey not? Send them along like a' good fellow, und try and di&pereo this crowd, in Heaven's

name. They may as well qo — you see we're not going to have a wedding tonight.' Captain De Vere turned to obey — then paused. There was a shrill woman's cry lrom above —in whose voice no one knew.' 1 Send for the doctor ! Quick ! quick ! Sir John is in a lit !' There was the sound of a heavy fall — of a stillod groan in one of the upper rooms, then the cries of frantic women, bhc rapid hurrying of excited feet. Peter Dangerlield lifted his eyes from the gastly, gory face on his knee, and glanced daikly up. 1 The plot thickens,' he muttered. 4 Anobner fib ! And the doctois warned [ him to tako care — that a second might prove fatal. 1 am Peter Dangerfield tonight, and verily a man of little account. When the first sun of the New Year rises, I may bo the richest baronet in Sussex !' Oub of the frightened throng of wedding guests two men made their way— Dr. Graves, of Castleford, and his clever assistant, Mr Henry Otis. 4 You had best go upstairs, Dr. Giaves, and sco to Sir John,' Sir John's nephew said, with grave authority. Jn this crisis of his life he seemed to rise with tho occasion and take his place naturally as next in command. ' Obis, look at this poor fellow, while I co and hep De Vere to send these people to the right about.' Somewhere in Peter Dangcrfield's nano.v head, talent, unsuspected heretofore, must have been stowed away. He was great on this night. Ho got the excited, alai mod, and demoialiscd Hock of well - cheesed wedding guests together in the fpactous ' drawing-room--, and mado them a giave little speech, 4 Ladies and gentlemen, friends and neighbours,' Mr Dangedield began, in hip piping little voice: ' dieadful and unexpected revelations have come to light tonight. Mr Dantree in the basest manner has refused to fulfil his contract — has absolutely refused to mairy — Miss Dangerh'eld.' Tlio infinite lclibh and delight i with which tho speaker said this was known only to himself. 4 1 call her Miss Dangei field fbill, although she lm^ really norighfc to that name. We have all bo n deceived. She U not Sir John'sdaughter. 117/os-heihho knows no moie than you do. It was hei foitune this dastardly advcntuier from Louisiana sought ; when hefound tluit forfeited lie refused in mrst insolent language to marry her. Sir John threw him down" the stair?. If he is killed, it only serves him light. Sir John himself is in a fit of apoplexy. Under thc?e sad circumstances I really must beg of you to leave us. Scar«\vood, from a house of wedding joy, has become a house of mourning. Leave us, my friends — it is all you can do for us now.' Jlr Dangei field put his handkerchief to his eyes in eloquent silence. And, awed and terrified, the bridal company dispersed : only Squire Talbot and his sister, and the captain of the Plungers Purple lingered in the stricken house. Katherine Dangerfield vol Katherine Dan gerh'eld ! -a nobxly imposed upon them, the resident gently of the country ! Something of: imagination mingled with the ama/e and horror of tho night's tragedy as the^e good peoplo drove home under the inky, midnight ?ky. And if Ga^ton Dantree died, they wondered, would tho law rea'ly hang a baronet 'I Petei' Dangorlield lingered in the diningroom until the ln-t canhgc rolled away. And then what an awful Mlence fell upon the great house. Flowers bloomed evety- | where, countless waxlights (lashed upon the brilliant scone— a tempoiary altar, all roses and jessamine, stood in the centre of tho room, and on the painted windows the Bloody Hand burned into the glass, gleamed redly out in the dazzling light. And upstairs the loidofall this grandeur and luxury lay dying, pot Imp? --and he was the next of kin ! Peter D.wjrei field .strode hastily to the grand bang jeting room where the wedding feast was spread. Massive old silver, all bearing the Dmgerfiold crest and motto, weighed it down, crystal glittered in rainbow hu.es, iloweys were herp and every whcie. 'And to-morrow," ho thought, with secret exultation, " all this may be mine.' 4 lie poured out a glass of wine and drank it. As he replaced it a cold hand was laid upon his — a low voice ,«poke in his ear. 'I'll take another, if you please ; my nerves arc horribly shaken. I sa,w Gaston Dan tree's face.' She shuddered as sho said it. 'Good Heavens! what a night thi.-^ has been.' | He turned and saw Mrs Vavasor. ' You here still !' he said, in no \ery gracious tone. S.he had done him good sprvicp, but tho pel vicp tret-, done, and like all of liis Mnd, he was ready to fling her aside. ' I shouldn't think you would want to stay under th's loof any longer than you can help you ot all people. It these two men die to night, 1 wonder if their ghosts will haunt you. You talk about neivcs, for»ooth ! Here, diink this and go. ScarswoodS no place for you.' 'Grateful, my Peter,' murmured Mis Vavasor, as she cook the glass ; 'but I scarcely expected anything better. I can dispense oven with \our gratitude while 1 hold jour promife to pay ten thousand down, remember, the veiy day that makes you Sir Peter.' 'You shall have it. Go, in Heaven's name! Don't let that girl- Kathciine, you know — see you, or I believo we'll have a second tiagedy before the night is over. Ho left her as he ?poke. On the threshold he turned to tay a last void. ' Diive tho tiap back to your quaitera in Castlfctord. I'll sec you to-monow, let things oid which way they will. I'm going to Sir John now. Go at once—goodnight !' He ascended to the baronets loom. Dr. Graves was there, Katherine and Miss Talbot. The stricken soldier had been laid upon his bed, undressed, and everything done for him that it was possible to do. He lay rigid and stark, Lis heavy breathing the only sign of life. 1 Well .'' Pqter Pangerfiold said the word in a strained, tense sort of voice, and looked with eager, burning eye« at the medical man. • 1 can trive no definite answer as yet, Mr Dangei Hold,' Dr. Giavcs answered coldly, and turning his back upon him. Peter Dangerfield drew a long breath. Death was wiitten on every line of that ghastly bloodless face. After a brief live 'months' reign, Sir John lay dying - dying childless, and he was heiv-a,b la,w ! Ho looked fuvtively at; Kabherine. Hio was standing motionless at tho foot of the hod, gazing on that rigid form. She had removed nothing ■ — not a flower — nob a jowol— not e\en her gloves — veil, laces, and eilk still floated about her. Her f.»ce kept its changeless calm — her eye^ their still, frozen look. It was horrible — it was foarful ! He turned away with a shiver, and eoftly quitted the room. • Of all the ways in which I thought sho would take it, 1 never thought of this,' he said to himself ' Are all vtomen like her, or is she unhke all women ? I never understood her - to-night I understand her laesb of all.' It was. midniyht now. Ho paufed a moment at the oiicl window to look out at (lie night. The storm had expendod it" fuiy, the rain and sleet had coasod. A wild north wind was blowing ; it was turning

bitterly cold. Up above, the storm drifts were scudding beforo the gale, a few frosty stars glimmered, and a wan moon lifted its pallid face out of the distant sea. The New Year gave promise of dawning brilliant and bright. 'And this was to have been her wedding day, and the bridegroom lies dying downstairs. I would not spare her one pang if I could, but I must own it'e hard on her.' He went softly down the long stairway and into the lower room where they had borne Gaston Dantree. Mr Otis was with him still, and Talbot and De Vere. 'Is be dead ?' Mr Dangerfield demanded. He looked like it. They hud washed away the blood, and bound up the wound. He lay with his eyes cosed, and breathing faintly ; but, dead and in his cofSn, Gaston Dan tree would never look more awfully corpse like than now. Mr Otis lifted his quiet eyes. 1 Nob dead, Mr Dangerfield - not even likoly to die, so far as I can see. What is to be done with him ?— what — ' He stopped and recoiled, for into their midst a white figure glided, and straight up to the wounded man. It was Katherine. Everywhere she went, (hat shining, biide-liko figure seemed to contradict the idea of death. Her eyes had a fixed sightless sort of stare — like the eyes of a sleep walker ; her face was the hue of snow. Noisclef-s, s,oundles?, like a spirit she mo\ed in her white robe?, until she stood beside the man she had loved, look ing down upon him as he lay. The man she had loved ? He had treated her brutally— woi.se than man ever ' treated woman before, but there was no anger in her face or heart. There was not sorrow, there was nob even pity — all feeling seemed numb and dead within her. She only stood and looked at him ! with a sort ot weary wonder. Three hours ago ho had been so full of life, of youth, ot strength of beauty, and now he lay more helpless than a newborn fluid. What a narrow step divided death from life. The four men stood silent, awe-stricken. Sho neither seemed to heed nor see them. Mr Otis summoned courage at last to approach and speak. ' Mins Dangei field,' he said, with grave lespect, * you should nofcbeheie. This is no sight for you. Let Mr Dangerfield lead you back to your father. 1 She lifted her heavy eye 3, and seemed to sco him for the first time. 1 Will he die?' 'I hopo not — I trust not. But you nni't not be hcio when he recovers consciousness.' ' What do you mean to do with him ?' she asked, in the same low monotone. 'He cannot stay here. Will you take him away ?' He looked at her doubtfully. ' Take him — where 7 To the hospital, do you mean ?' 1 No, not to the hospital. I should rathci you did not take him there. Can he be remo\ed without much danger? 1 ' Well — j es ;ifhe is removed at once.' I 1 Then — Mr Otis, will you do me a { favour?' 'Anything in my power, Mi^s Dangerfield.' Then take him to your own house. It is a gieat favour I ask, but you will do ir I know. The expense shall be mine. I don't want him to die.' A slight shudder ' passed over her as she said it ; ' and there i-! no one else I can ask. Will you do thio for me ?' She laid her hand on his arm, and looked at him. A great compassion filled his heart for this gill, ,= o cruelly beieaved I through no fault of her own. He could not lefueo. 'It shall be done. I will have him re | moved immediately, and if lie dies it will j be no fault of mine' ' I knew 1 might ti ust- yon. If it is possible, I will yo theie and see him. He must not die, Mr Obis* — Ac mtt^f vof.' A sudden gleam came into her dead eyes. 'Ho must recovei , and he must leave here. Take him at once, and thank you very much.' Then the tall white figure flitted away and wa? gone, and the four men stood oonfounded and looked blanl'.ly into each other 1 '- startled eyes, ' W hat does she mean ? De Vero asked. • What does she want the .scoundrel to iccover foi 7 Egad ! the only creditable thing he has ever done in the wotld will be his leaving it.' 1 It is for her father's sake, doubtless,' suggested Squire Talbot. * Nothing of tho ?oit,' interrupted Peter Dingei field. 'She wants Dan tree to recover for her own. If ohe has entirely done with him I'm greatly mi.-taken. I wouldn't etand in Dantreo's shoes when he i-ecoveis for the crown of England. Sho is in an unnatuial state juj>t now— she'll awake a f ter a little and be all the inoie terrible for her present calm. What will your mother ?ay, Otis, when you turn her house into ;i private hospital 7' 1 Whatever I do is good and a hnirable in my mother's eyo a . I will trouble you, Mr lhwirertield, to older thecairiago, and the quietest hor«e in the stable. E\ory moment ive lose now is of vital importance." Mr Dangei field obeyed. The carriage was brought round, the wounded man, carefully f :o\cied from the cold, raw, night air, carried out, and 'aid among the cushions. Squiie Talbot, with litt'e lo\e for the&tiicken man, yet accompanied the assistant into Caetlo:oid Ga&ton Dantrco had been his guest, and though, niter his base and dastaidly conduct to-night, ho could never again q\-q6S the thteshold of MoiecfUflhe. ho still folfc bound to see him safely to his destination. Captain Do Vere remained behind at Scarswood, at the so'icitati n of Mr Dangerfield. He could not return to his laclyings* while tilings w ore in this uncertain state, neither could he remain alone. IFow would vhh night end ? Would Sir John j veeo\ or again, or would the New Year morning breaking already, see him lord of this noble domain ? [ And upstairs, in the sick chamher, the dim night lamp flickered, and only the ' ticking of the clock sounded n the dead hush. Sir Joshn. lay motionless, Dr. Graves sut hepJJo him, his wi i;>t between his finger?, counting tho beating of that sinking pulse. An eminent physician had boen telegraphed fo> % to London, but it was more than doubtful \i ho would iincl the baionet alive upon his arrival. And if Gaston Dantree died, would it not be as woll so ? l>OMde him, at the foot of tho bed, looking like the ghoit of some dead bride in that spectral light, Kathoiine sat. She sat quite motionless, her eyes laiely leaving the face upon the pillow, her hands clasped on her lap, her face liko maible 'At one fell swoop' she had 10-it all— all .' home, friends, fortune, lover, father, name, an.cl yet it is doubtful if in those hour* sh,e 'suffered much. Sho could \\&s realise. \b yet —tho suddenness and, hovyor o.f the Wow* had stunned her ; l\ys.fceyjcs.!Vicl tcai sand woman's uttermost figoyiv might come hereafter ~^ua\v f-he sat «till and calm. Her heart lay liuo a stone in her bosom, a dull hoivy pain throbbed cca a olo*sly in her head, h\\{, her misery was tearless ;.nd dumk Dr. G ayes watching l\&r lyie.viky and fin ti\ ely, wondered why,t manner of woman 1 \,\\\s %\\[ w.^, §p «,U others ho had

' ever known, sitting here without one cdniI plaint, one sob, one cry of pain, with her bridegroom lost to her on her bridal night, the father who had adored her dying before her eye?. And while the night light flickered, and the two pale watchers, sat mutely there, the bright wintry sun arose — the happy New Year had begun. As its first rays stole in between the closed curtains, the sick man's ej'es opened, and he rallied n little. His glance fell upon Katherine, a swift gleam of intelligence lit his fiyes, his lips moved, and a few incoherent words came forth. In an instant she was bending over him, her ear to his lips. ' Darling papa ! Yes, what is it?' He stiove hard to speak, bub again only that muttered incoherent sound. But the girl's quick ear had caught three words : 1 Indian cabinet— will.' His thickening voice failed, his dim eyes looked with piteous, speechless agony up in hers. • A will in the Indian cabinet — is that it, papa ?' Ho nodded eagerly — a flash of light crossing his death-like faco. • And you want me to get it for you ?' He nodded again. 'Quick!' ho said huskily, and she arose and left the room. The Indian cabinet was in the library. There the lights still burned brightly, and there on the hearthrug her lover had stood — the lover for whom she had been ready to give up the woild and all its glory — and who mercilosaly catb her oil. She looked darkly that way once. *He will live,' she said to herself under her breath ' And I will remember it.' Then she ciossed to the tall cabinet, opened one drawer after another, and searched among the papers there for the paper she wanted. She found ib without much trouble, closed and relocked the cabinet, and returned to the sick room. Sir John still lay, breathing laboriously, with a hungry, eager light in his gleaming eyes. 1 Shall I read ib, papa— is that what you mean V He nodded once moie. She opened the paper— it waa very short— and read clearly and distinctly its contents. It bequeathed to his beloved adopted daughter Katherine the sum of three thousand pounds — the portion of his late wife, and was unsigned. She understood instantly what it was ho wished. ' You want to sign this, do you not ?' Another eager nod, another husky ' quick !' She laid the document upon the blotting book before him on the bed, and piaced the pen in his hand. Dr. Graves hastily summoned Captain De Vere, and the two men stood by as witnesses while the stricken man essayed to sign. Essayed — and in vain ! The pen dropped useless from his fingers. Again Ivatherino lifted, and placed it in his hand — again he strove. The effort was futile -ib fell from hi 3 lingers, and with a low moan ot agony his nerveless arm dropped by his side. ' Itisofnouse — all vital powerisgone. He never will sign his name again,' Dr. Orave3 said ; 'he is exciting himself dangerously and uselessly.' The dj'ing man heard, and understood. His eyes turned on Katherino with a speechless anguish terrible to see. 1 Too lato : too late !' they heard him. gioan. ' Oil, my God ! too late !' Kathcrinc's arms encircled him —she pressed her cold face close to his. - ' Papa, darling,' she said, softly ami sweetly, 'I don't want you to giieve for mo —to think of me even. You are very, veiy ill — very ill, papa, and — had we not better send for a clergyman ?' He made a feeble motion of assent. She looked at Captain Y>e Yere. 4 Yoi' will go ?' she said. He went at once. Then she bent close to himajjain, whisperinggenfly nnd soothingly into his ear. But ib is doubtful if he heard her. A stupor — which precedes death — was gathering over him ; hisdull eyes closed, his pale lips muttered, ho moaned ceaselessly — thegi'cat, la&bchanee v* as very near. The sun was high in the blue January sky now, the whole world jubilant with the glad sunlight of the New Y-ear. And in the town of Castleford people talked with bated breath of the Grange, dread tragedy at Scarswood, and of nothing else. In a little cottage in the remotest suburbs of the town, Gasbon Dan tree lay, senseless still, while life and doath fought their sharp battle above his pillow. And in thab stately and spacious chamber at Scarswood ibs lord lay dying, while clergyman and physicians stood by, Uh>ele=s and in vain. She never left him— she neither slept nor ate. A> she had been fr:>m the first — tearles>s and noiseless — so she was to tho last. The pertumed lace* — tho dead white silk of her tiailing robe — still swept their richness over the carpet ; on arms and neck large penils still shone, on her head the orange wreath and veil still remained. She had removed nothing but her gloves— what did ib matter what she wore now ? She sat beside the djing man, while the slow ghostly hours dragged on — an awful bight it seemed to tho men who mutely watched her. Her wedding day ! and she sat here bereaved more ciuelly, more bitteily, than ever widow in the world before. Morning came and passed' The short ; January afternoon wore on. The sun dropped low, the blue twilight shadows were gabheiing onco moie. That celobratpd physician from London had arrived, but all the physicians in the great Babylon were of littlo avail now. Lower and lower the red wintry sun dropped, Hushing earth and sky with rose-liyht, and, as its lasb led vi y faded away and died amid the trees of Scaiauoocl I'aik, Sir John Dangorfield passed from Scirswood and all earthly possessions forever. Without sign or strutrgle bho shadow thab goes before crept up, and shut out the light of life in one qujeb instanb from all the face. Up and do'A-n, up and down in lhe crimson splendours of that New Year sunset, Sir Danger Held r-3oed under the leafless tiees. And this was to have been her wedding day I Ko panj* of p'fcy— no touch of remorse came to him — it was not in hi* nature to feel either. He only waited in a foyer of impatience for the end. ]t came. As he stood for an instant, his eyes fixed on that red radiance in the vve^t, thinking how fair nnd stately Scarswood looked beneath its light, Dr. Graves approached him. One look at his face was enough ! His heart «aye a jjieat leap. At last ! at last ! — his hour had come. •Sir Peter Dangerh'eld,' tho physician, gravely said, ' your uncle i 3 dead.' The late Sir .John had been his Mend ; but a live dog is better than a dead Hon. Sir John was dead, and Sir Peter reigned. It could do no harm to be the first to pay court to the new sovereign. • Sir Peter !' Ho t jrned faint and giddy for a moment with greab joy, and leaned speechlessly against a tree. Then ho started up, his faco Hushing dark red» and wade hastily for the house Never be' fore had the old baronial hall looked half so noble, half so grand ; never before had fehe fair domain spread tiround him soemed lm'f so stately an inheritance as. mow when ho stood there in this tiysb January sun.-et, master of Scars\vo,od\ { y w&? Cooitinncd. )

( Smirk A tbornev : " Yon s*»y the evottiw^ woi'o on. What-, did ib wear on th.it pccnlior occasion ?' Wit^Qots ; ll The dc?:» yjJ <,lay r 1