The evening world. Newspaper, January 11, 1916, Page 17

(Conyright, 1892, by A, Conan Dosle), SYNOPSis OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS, Jack Calder (who tells the story) is a ee farmer's son, Wig Jim Horserott is his Shum, ‘The Napoiconic wate are raging on the Con- Linent, and both lade are wildly eager to enilat, Jack's orphaned conan, Edith, comes to the ‘Calder farm to live while Jim ts absent at col. lege. Her dainty beauty and charm et once eaplave Jack, CHAPTER Ul. (Continued,) The Shadow on the Waters. UT the best thing that she gave Us was just her own Presence. To me it changed the whole countryside, and the sun was brighter and the braes greener and the air sweeter from the day she came. Our Uves ‘ware common no longer, now that nt them with such a one as the old, dull, gray house other place in my eyes since set her foot across the door gsg3 rat not her face, though that some enough; nor her form, never saw the lass that tch her. But it was her jer queer, mocking ways; her jow fashion of talk; her proud is nt whlsk of the dress and toss of the thead, which made one feel like the @round beneath her f and then quick challenge in her eye and kindly word that brought one up to her level again. But never quite to her level either. To me she was always something @bove and beyond. I might brace myself and blame myself, and do what I would, but still I could not feel that the same blood ran in our veins, and that she was but @ country lass as I was a country lad. "he more I loved her the more ‘Trightened I was at her, and she could see the fright long before she && [i)kaew. he love, T wes uncsay to be ja” ‘ay .com her, and when I was with her, I was in a shiver all the time for fear my e@tumbling talk night weary her or give her offense. Had I known more of the ways of wo.aen I might have taken less pains. “You're a deal changed from what’ you used to be, J said she, look ing at ine sideways trom under her dark lashes, “You suid that when first we met,” said I. “Ah, | wan speaking of your looks then, end of your ways now. You used te be 60 rough with me, and so imperious, and would have your own way. like the little man that you were. I can see you now with your tangled brown hair and your mis- chievous eyes. And now you are so gentle and quiet and soft-spoken.” “One learns to behave,” says I. “Ab, but, Jack, I liked you so much better as you were.” ‘Well when she said that I fairly stared at her, for 1 had thought that a@he could never have quite forgiven ar the way I used to carry on. tt any one out of a daft-house could have liked it was clean beyond a oterwending, I thought of how, ehe would ‘was reading by the door I go up on the moor, with a ewitch, and fix little clay balis end of it, and sling them at a ei I made her cry. then I thought of how I caught eel in the Corriemuir burn, and Giviea ‘her about with it, until she screaming under my mother's ‘half mad with fright, and my ve me One on the ear-hole porridge stick, — which me and my eel under the dresser these were the things that she ‘Well, she must miss them, ‘my hand would wither before { do them now, But for the first I began to understand tho that lies in @ woman, and @ man mist not reason about put just watch and try to learn, found our level after a time, =e she had just to do ghe liked and how she liked, and i bar] much at her beck and as fob Was at mine. You'll that I was @ fool to have had so turned, and maybe | was; ex, you must think how little women, and how much ‘We were thrown together. Besides, she @ woman in a@ million, and I can you that it was a strong head ‘would not be turned by her. Elliott, a br} Pitched battles to his name. could have turned him round her ke ip rag—she, only new from the boarding school. I met him hobbling from West Inch, the first time after she came, with pink in his eheeks and a shine in his eye"that took ten years from him. He was cgckin, up his gray mustaches at either end, and curling them into his eyes, and atrutting out with his sound leg as Proud as a piper, What she had said $0 him, the Lord knows, but it was ke old wine in his veins. *“T've been up to see you, laddie,’ seaid fe, “but J must home again now. My it has not been wasted, however, as had an opportunity of seeing ‘la belle cousine.’ A most charming and peeens, young lady, laddie.” He had formal, stift way of talking, and » Was fond of perking in a bit of the French, for he had picked some up in the Peninsula. He would have gone on talking of Cousin Edic, but I saw the corner of a newspaper thrusting our of his pocket, and 1 knew that he Nad come over, as was his way, to give me some news, for we heard lit- We enough at West Inch “What is fresh, major?” I asked, Hy pulled the paper out with a flour). ‘The allies have won a great battle, my lad,” says he. “I don't think ‘Nap’ can stand up long against this. The Saxons have thrown him over, and he's been badly beat at ig. Wellington is past the Pyre- nees, and Graham's folk will be at Bayonne before long.” I chucked up my hat. “Then the ‘wer will come to an end at last,” I opted. by , and time, too,” said he, shak- fing his head gravely. “It's been a business, But it is hardly while for me to say now w ‘t) my mind about you,” A Romance of Love and European War By SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE Author of “SHERLOCK HOLMES, bat in Berwick to-night.” Bre, ‘What was that?” ‘Well, laddie, you are doing no good here; and, now that my knee is get- ting more limber, | was hoping that I might get on active service again. I wondered whether, maybe, you might like to do a little active sol- diering under me. My heart jumped at the thought. “Aye, would I!" I cried. “But it'll be clear six months before Tl be fit to pass a board, and it’ long odds that Boney will be under lock and key before that ‘And thepe's my mother ia 1, ‘I doubt she'd never tet me ~. “Ah, well, she'll never be asked to now," he answered, and hobbled on upon his way. I eat down among the heather, with my chin in my hand, turning the thing over in my mind, and watching him in his old brown clothes, with the end of a gray plaid flapping over his shoulder, as he picked his way up the swell of the hill, It was a poor life, this at West Inch, waiting to fill my father's shoes, with the same heath, and the same burn, and the samo sheep, and the same gray house for- ever before me. But over there—over the blue sea— ah, there was a life fit for a man, ‘There was the Major, a man past his prime, wounded and spent, and yet inning to get to work again, while , with all the strength of my youth, ‘was wasting it upon these hillsides. A hot wave of shame flushed over me and I sprang up, all in a tingle to be off and play @ man’s part in the world. Yor two days I turned it over tn my mind, and on the third there came something which first brought my res- olutions to a head, and then blew them ali to nothing, like a puff of smoke in the wind, I had etrolied out in the afternoon with Cousin Edie and Rob until we found ourselves on the brow of the slope which dips away down to the beach. It was late in the fall and the Mnks were all bronzed and faded, but the sun still shone warmly, and a south breeze came in little hot pants, rippling the broad blue sea with white curling lines, I pulled an armful of bracken to make a couch for Edie, and there she jay in her listless fashion, happy and contented, for of all folk that I have ever met sho had the most joy from warmth and light. I leaned on a tus- sock of grass, with Rob's head upon my knee, and there, as we sat alone in peace in the wilderness, even there we saw suddenly thrown upon the waters in front of us the shadow of that great man over yonder, who had scraw'ed his name in red letters across the map of Europe. There was a ship coming up with the wind—a black, sedate old mer- chaptman—bound for Leith as likely as not. Her yards were square, and she was running all sail set. On the other tack, coming from the porth- east, were two great, ugly, luggerlike craft, with one high mast each, and a big, square, brown sail. A prettier sight one would not wish than to see the three craft dipping along upon so fair a day, but of a sudden there came a spurt of flame and a whiri of biue smoke from one lugger, then the same from the second, and a rap-rap- rap from the ship. In @ twinkling hell had elbowed out heaven, and there on the water was hatred and savagery and the lust for blood. We had sprung to our feet at the outburst, and Edie put her band, all in @ tremble, upon my ar “They are fighting, Jac she cried, “What are they? Who are they?” My heart was thudding with the guns, and it was all that L could do to answer her for the catch of my breath. "I's two French privateers, Edie,” aid I, “Chasse-marees, they call them, and yon's oue of ships, and they'll tak a death, for the major says tha they've always got heavy guns, and are as full of men as an ege’s full of meat. Why doesn't the fool make back for Tweedmouth bar?” But not an inch of canvas did she jower, floundering on in her stolid fashion, while a little black ball ran up to her peak, and the rare old flag streamed suddenly out from the halyt Then again came the rap- rap-rap of her little guns, and the boom-boom of the big carronades in the bows of the lugger An instant later the three ships met, and the merchantman staggered on like a stag with two wolves hanging to its haunches. The three became but a dark blur amid the smoke, with the top spars thrusting out in a bristle, and from the heart of that cloud came the quick, red flashes of flame, and such a devil’s racket of big guns and small, cheering and goreaming, a8 was to din in my bead for many a week. For a stricken hour the hell-cloud moved slowly across the face of the water, and still, with our hearts in our mouths, we watched the flap of the flag, straining to see if it were yet there. And then suddenly the ship, as proud and black and high as ever, shot on upon her way, and ae the smoke cleared we saw one of the luggers squattering like @ broken- winged duck upon the water, and the other working hard to get the crew from her before she sank. For all that hour I had lived for nothing but the fight. My cap had been whisked away by the wind, but I had never given it a thought. Now, with my heart full, I turned upon Cousin Edie, and the sight of her took me back six years. There was the vacant, staring eye wnd the parted lips, just as I had seen them in her girlhood, and her little hands were clenched until the knuckles gleamed like ivory. “Ah, that captain!” said she, talk- to the heath and the whin bushes. ‘here is a man-—so strong, Bo reso- lute! What woman would not be proud of @ man like that?” “Aye, he did well!’ I cried with enthusiasm, She looked at me as if she had for- gotten my existence, “I would give a year of my life to meet such a man,” said she. “But that is what living in the country means, One never sees anybody but just those who are fit for nothing better,” I do not know that she meant to burt mo, though she was never very backward at that; but, whatever her intention, her words seemed to strike straight upon a naked n “Very well, Cousin Edi T sald, trying to speak calmly. “That puts the cap on it. I'll take the bounty ‘What, Jack? You be a soldier?” BACHELORS BEWARE! COMPULSORY MARRIAGE LAw. JAI. FoR You. IF NoT MARRIED AFTER 30, NEWS ITEM. WELL, WHY Don't You ( ISS Your BETROTHED D ff you think that every mi * in the country must be @ h, you'd look so handsome in a red coat, Jack, and it improves you vastly when you are in a temper. I wish your eyes would always flash like that. for it looks so nice and manly. But I am sure that you are joking about the soldiering.” “Ll Jet you see if 1 am joking.” Then and there I set off running over or until I burst into the kitchen my father and mother were silting on either side of the ingle “Mother,” I cried, “I'm off for a soldier.” Had I said that 1 was off for a rginr they could not have looked over it, for in those days among the decent, canny country folks it was mostly the blacksheep that were herded by the se But, my word, those same black sheep did’ their country some rare 8 too! My mother put up her mittens to her eyes, and my father looked as black as a peat-hole. “Hoots, Jock, you're duft,” says he. “Daft or no, Um goit rhen you'll have no blessing from Then I'll go without." At this my mother and throws her arms T saw her hand all hi knuekly with the done for my upbringin) ith me a p don My heart w but my will was as fi edge, 1 put her back in her chair with a kiss, and then ran to my room td pack my bundle, It was already growing dark, and I had a long walk before me; 80 I thrust a few things together and hastened out. As I came through the side door some one uched my shoulder, and there was Edie in the gloaming. “Silly boy!" said she. not really going?” “Am I not? You'll see.” But your father does not wish it, nor your mother, “T know that,” “Then why 0?” “You Ought to know.” Why then Because you make me” I don’t want you to go, Jack.” You sald it. You said that the folk in the country were fit for nothing better, You always speak like that. You think no more of me than of those doves in the cot. You think I'm nobody at all, I'll show you different.” All my troubles came out in hot little spurts of speech. Sho colored up as I spoke, and looked at me in her queer, half-mocking, half-petting fashion. “Oh, I think so little of you as that,” said she, “And that is the reason why > a sereec! “You are you are going away, Well, then, Jack, will you stay if 1 am-—af Tam kind to you?” We were face to face, and close to- gether, and in an instant the thing was done. My arms were round her, and 1 was kissing her, and kissing her, and kissing her, on her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes, and pressing her to my heart, and whispering to her that she was all, all, to me, and that I could not be without her, She said nothing, but it was long before she turned her face aside, and when she pushed me back it was not very hard. ‘Why, you quite your rude, old, impudent self,” suid she, patting her hair with her two hands, “You have tossed me, Jack. I had no idea tia you wovld be so forward.” But all my fear of her wus gone, and @ ‘oye (eateld boliss thap evs: was HE LAW PRaVi FoR THAT - om DRAW A NUNBER boiling in my veina. Lerled. but I'll winter bad been mild, with just frost ou are my very own now,’ shall not go to Berwic! Stay and marry you.” But she lau ed when I spoke of “silly boy! Silly boy!" eaid fy, Peat;bogs. One she, with her forefinger up, and then i when I tried to lay hands on her again Cele back to breakfast with @ Geck she gaye a little dainty courtesy and was off into the hous CHAPTER IV. , The Choosing of Jim. IND then there came ten weeks which were like and are #o now to look back I would weary you od between were I to tell you what pas - us, but, oh! how earnest and fateful come up to his scarf-pin and all important it was at the time, Her waywardness, her ever varying patiently, moods, now bright, now dark ike a But tell mo, had hea brown wooden meadow unde ess. angers, her sudden repent- “Yes, he was sme ances, each in turn filling me with joy, dressed in gray, and he has a*gra or sorrow—these were iy life, and all the rest was but emptiness. deep down behind all my other feel- said more than she meant. ings was a Vague disquict—a fear that lng where the ground was a little I was like tho man who set forth to Soft, and he warned me of it,” she lay hands upon the rainbow, and that A the real Edie Calder, however near she Jim,” ‘said I. “He should have been might seem, was, in truth, forever be- & doctor years back if his brains had yond my reach, 1 For sho was so hard to understand— J had ‘seen him through the kitehen or, at least, she was so for @ dull wind witted country lad like me would talk to her of my real pro and how, by taking in the whole of Corricmuir, We might earo @ hundred good pounds over the extra rent, and maybe be able to build out the parlor sec you agai at West Inch, o as to make it fine for like the old ones.” Then suddenly he her when we married, she would pout stuck in his speech, and stared, with her lip and droop her eyes, as though his mouth open, over my shoulder, 1 #he scarce had patience (o listen to turned, and there was her But ever if I would let which heir of the Jim,” said 1 joining the “Do you often take walks before she would by no means breakfast, Mr. Horscroft > be M great sti “y hear of, 1 showed myself warrior until folks’ mouth, then she would be aw all his eyes. blithe as the May. 1 would keep up the play as well ae was in all Calder of West Inch, and out would como hor lip again in scorn of me, Bo Inch.” Chambers, Mai weed, Morgan COMPULSORY MARRIAGE a aE, 1 took her up we moved on, she in the air and I on again, and kissed her, as if it were my the ground, and if the rift had not come in one way it must in another, It was after Christmas, but the enough to make it safe walking over hh morning and sho Edie had been out early, of color on her cheeks. “Hag your friend, the doctor's son, come home, Jack?" says she, “T heard that ho was expected,” “Ah, then it must have been him that I met on the muir.” hat? You met Jim Horscroft?” I ain sure it must be he. A splen- dream, did-looking man, a hero, with curly black bh air, & short, straight nose, and ‘es, He had shoulders like a and as to height-—why, IL sup- pose that your head, Jack, would “Up to his ear, Edi Phat is, if it was Jim, Pipe stuck in the corner of his ing. He was deep, strong voice.” “Ho, ho, you spoke to him?" said I. Nhe colored @ little, as if she lad “To was 2 as strong as his arm. Why, alive! here is the very man hima , and now I rushed out with my if I half-eaten bannock in my hand to ects et him. He ran forward, too, with i great hand out and his eyes shin- “Ah, Joc! he cried, “it's good to @ merry, roguish smile, standing in the build up door. How proud I felt of her, and of | dreams about what I might become, myself too, as I ' how I might find proved me to be the trur d at her. “This 1s my cousin, Miss Edie Calder, with that roguish sinile said he “So do I, and generally over yonder,” aid she; “but you are not vory hos- 1 could, but soon some luckless word pitable to your friend, Jack. If you would show that I was only plain Jack do not do the honors I stall have to take your place for the credit of West ONE OF THE MANY THOUSAND PEOPLE WHO ARE READING THE EVENING WORLD’S Complete Novel Each Week? 1 not, you are robbing yourself of the richest fiction treat ever ‘offered to the readers of « newspaper. The Evening World, every week, prints a novel by seme famous or, These novels are issued complete in six large dally instalments. They are eslected with a view to suiting the And the tremendous success of In The Evening World's “ eories is the foremost work of euch “best-seller” authors as Robert W. Roberts Rinehart, Rupert Hughes, James Oliver Cur: bertsen, Margaret Widdemer, George Randolph Chi denen Vanoe, Edgar Rice Burreughe and many others ef the pea has Io OMPLETE NOVEL EACH Wi 1 said 1 ime 1 “Ah, it must have been dear old . There are no friends Hie, with such ’ she asked, staring at ber with ° Well, in another minute we were In with the old folk, end Jim had his plate of porridge ladied out for him, but ag 4 a word would he speak, but sat, with his spoon in his hand, starin; at Cousin Kdle. She shot little twinkling glances across at him all the time, and it seemed to me that she was amused at his backwardness, and that she tried by what she said to give him heart. “Jack was*telling me that you were studying to be a doctor,” said she, “But oh! how hard it must be, and how long {it must take before one can wather so much learning 4s that.” “It takes me long enough,” Jim ane swered ruefully, “but I'M beat It yet.” “Ah, but you are brave. You are resolute, You fix your eyes on a point, and you move on toward tt, and nothing can stop you.” “Indeed, I've little to boast of,” sald “Many @ one who began with me put up his plate years ago, and am T but a student still.’” hat is your modesty, Mr, Hors- croft, They say that the bravest are always huinble, But then, when you gained your end, what a glorious career—to carry healing in your hands, to raise up the suffering, to have for o1 sole end the goad of humanity.” Honest Jim wriggled in his chair at this. “I'm afraid I have no such y high motives, Miss Calder," sald It's to 4 living, and to take v my father's business that [do it. If L carry healing in one hand 1 have the other out for a crown-pleve.” “How candid ayd truthful you are she cried, and #0 they went on, decking him with every virtue, and twisting bis words to make him play the part, in the Way that [ knew so well. she Was done I could head Was buzzing with her beauty and her kindly words, T thrilled with pride to think that he should think #o well of my kin, “Isn't she fine, Jim I could not help saying when we stood ajone out or, he lighting his pipe bi 1¢ got off home. a We're going to be married,” said L The pipe fell out of his mouth, and he stood staring at me. Then he picked it up, and walked off without 4 word, I thougnt that he would likely me back, but he never did, and T waw him far off walking up the brae with his chin on his chest But 1 was not to forget him, for Cousin Edie had a hundred questions to ask me about his boyhood, about his strength, about the women that he was likely to know; there was satisfying her. And then again, later in the day, I heard of him, but in a less pleasant fashion It Was my father who came home in the evening with his mouth fall of poor Jim. He had been deadly drunk since. mid-day, had been down to Westhouse Links to fight the gypsy champion, and it was not certain that the man would live through tho night had met Jim on the high road, as @ thunde ad, and with an insult in his eye for every man that passed him, Guid sakes!’ sald the old He'll make a fine pra gel’ if breaking by will do ft Cousin Edie laughed at all this, and 1 laughed because she did, but T was net eo sure that it was funny On the third day afterwards IT was going up Corriemuir by the sheep- track, When who should I see atrid- ing down bur Jim himaelf. But he was another man from the big, kind- ly wo who had aurned hie por- with us the other morning, He ha@ no collar nor tie, his vest was open, his hair matted, and ty mottled, like a man who haa peevey, overnight. He carried an oak stick, and he slashed at the whin- bushes on either side of the path. “Why, Jim!" aaid 1. But he looked at me in the way that I had often seen at achool when the devil was strong in him, and when he knew that ho was in the Wrong, and yet eet his will to bragen it out. Not a word did he say, but he brushed past me on the narrow path, and swaggered on, still brand. ishing his ash plant and cutting at he bush Ah, well, I was not angry with him. T was sorky, very worry, and that was all, Of course | was not so blind but that I could see how the matter stood. He was din love with Edie, he could not bear to think that TI should have her. Poor devil! how could he help it! Maybe I should have been the same. There wan a time when I should have wondered that a girl could have turned a strong man’s head like that, but I knew more about it now. For a fortnight [ saw nothing of Jim Horscroft, and then came the Thursday which was to change the whole current of my life, 1 had woke early that day, and, with a little thrill of joy, which ts a rare thing to feel when a man firet opens his eyes. than usuae the night before, and T had fallen asleep with the thought that maybe at last I had caught the rainbow, and that, without any tmag- intnga or make-believes, she was learning to love plain Jack Calder of West Inch, It was this thought, still at my heart, which had given me that lttle morning chirrup of Joy. And then 1 remembered that if I hastened I might be in time for her, for it was her custom to go out with the sun- rise. But T was too late, When I came to her door it wae half open and tho room empty. Well, thought I, at least T may meet her and have the homeward walk with her. From the top of the Corriemulr hill you may neo all the countey round; #0, catch- ing up my stick, I swung off in that direction, It was brigh’ but cold, and the surf, I remember, was ing loudly, though there had been no wind in our parte for, daya. I sigzagged up the steep pathway, breathing in the thin, in morning air, and humming @ aol La until I came out, @ Httle abort breath, among the whins upon th top. Looking down the 1 4 of the farther side, I] saw in Jim ‘Horscroft wi ‘They were not far sway, but too taken up with each other to see mo. She was walking slowly, with the little petu cock of her dainty head which I knew «n well, casting her eyes away trom him and shoot- ing out a word fron: time to time. He paced along beside her, looking down at her ani bending ble head in ernesa of Ly ineny as he aaid something she jaced her hand, with @ caress, upon Piece and he, carried off his feet, plucked ‘her up and kiaged ber again and again, At the sight could neither cry out nor move, buf stood, with a heart of lead and the face of a dead man, staring down at IT iS saw her hand passed over his shoul- der, and that his kisses were as wel- come to her as ever miné had been. ‘Then he set her down again, and T found that this had been their part- ing, for indeed in another hundred paces they would have come in view of the upper windows of the house. She walked slowly away, with a wave back once or twice, and he stood looking after her, I waited until she was some way off, and then down I came, but so taken up was he that I was within & hand's touch of him be- fore he whisked round upon me, He tried to smile as his eyes met min “Ab, Jock,” says he, “early afoot! “! saw you,” I gasped, and my throat had turned so dry that T spoke like a man with « quinsy, “Did you #0," said he, and he gave a little whistle. “Well, on my lite, Jock, I'm not sorry, T was thinking of coming up to West Inch thts very day and having it out with you, Maybe it's better ge it is." ou've » a fine friend,” said I, ell, now, be reasonable, Jock,” said he, sticking his hands into his pockets and rocking to and fro as he stood, “Let me show you how it stands. Look me in the eye, and you'll sea that I don't lie, It's th way. T had mot Edie-—Miss Caide: that isbefore | came that morning, and there were things which made me look upon her as free, and think- ing that, I let my mind dwell on her. Then you said she wasn't free, but was promised to you, and that was the worst knock I’ve had for a time It clean put me off, and I made a fool yself for some days, and it's @ y I'm not in Berwiek jail ‘Then by chance I met her again— on my soul, Jock, it was chance for me and when I spoke of you she laughed at the thought. It was cousin and cousin she said, but as for her not being free, or you being more to her than a friend, it was fool's talk. So you see, Jock, T was not so much to blame after all, the more so a8 she promised that she would let you see by her ‘conduct that you were mistaken in thinking that you had any claim upon her. You must have noticed that she has hardly had @ word for you for these last two weeks." 1 laughed bitterly. “It was only last night,” said T, “that she told me that | was the only man in all this earth that she could ever bring her- xelf to dove.” eroft put out a shaking id iton my shoulder, while his face forward to look “y said he, “I never You are not try- score trick against trick, are Honest now, between man and v's truth " sald [ He stood lookin at me and his f had set like that of a man who is hay- ing a hard fight with himself. It was long two minutes before he spoke See here, Jock,” said he, "this wo man is fooling us both. D'ye hear, nt—whe'a fooling us both. She loves ‘ou at West Inch and she loves mo at the brae-side, and in her devil's heart sie caros # whin-blossom for neither of ue. Let's join bands, man, a nd the hellfire hussy to the right-about,” But this was too much. I could not curse her in my own heart, and still less could I stand by and hear another nan de it, Dot though it was my oldest Edie had been kinder ™' “Don't you call namea!” 1 cried. “Ach! you sicken me with your soft talk, [il i her what she ae called. “Will you, though?” said T, tugging off my coat. “Look you here, Jim Horscroft, if you say another word against her Lil lick it down your throat If you were as big as Castle. Try me, and see!” He peeled off his coat down to the elbows, and then he slowly pulled it on again, “Don't be such a fool, Jock.” said he. “Four stone and five inches is more than mortal man can give. Two old friends mustn't fall out over such a—well, there, I won't say it. Well, by the Lord! if she hasn't nerve for ten!” | looked round, and there she was, not twenty yards from us, bk cool and easy and placid as we were hot and fevered. “I was nearly home,” sald he, “when I saw you two boys very talking, so I came all the way to know what it was about.” Horseroft took a run forward and caught her by the wrist. She gave a little squeal at the sight of his face, but he pulled her towards 1 was standing. ik, we'v said be, “Here she is, ke her word as to which She can’t trick us now e're both together.” “Tam willing,” eaid 1. “And so am [If she gues for you 1 swear I'll never so much ag turn an eye on her again. Will you do as much for me?” ite you said to-day. D'you see? then, fair and square! Here are before you, once and have done. Which is it to be, Jock or me?” “But I love 1s nobody that ‘up to Yon oe Jock!" said looking “Yor over her ah a * aid seer and away I for We a jay I went Yet the cme a let . CHAPTER V. The Man From the Sea. ELL, T was never one to sit groaning over a cracked pot; if it cannot be mended then it is the part of a man to say no more of it, For weeks I had an aching heart; indeed, it is a little sore how, after all these years and @ happy marriage, when I think of it. But I kept a brave face on me, aad above all I did as I had promised that day on the hillside, I was « brether to her and no more, though there were times when I had to put a herd curb upon myself; for @ now she would come to me with her coaxing ways, and with tales about how rough Jim was, and how happy she hed been when I was kind to ber, for it wae én her blood to speak like that and ghe could not help it. But for the most part'she and Jim were happy enough. It was eli over the countryside that they were te Be married when he had passed bis de- gree, and he would come up to West Inch four nights a week to | with us. My folks were pleased enough about rf and I tried ote pleased too. Maybe at first there was ® coolness between him and me. was not quite the old school-! trust between us, But then, when first smart was passed, it seemed me that he had acted openly, and that I had no just cause for against him, So we were enough, and as for her, he had for~ gotten all bis anger, and would have Kissed the print of shoe ip the mud, We used $0 eke ips comes together, he . that oan 8 one of those that I now want you. We had passed over Brameten Heath and round the clump of which screens the house of Eliott from the sea-wind. It was spring now, and the year was @ for- ward one, so that the trees were well leaved by the end of April. It was as warm as a summer day, and we were the inere surprised w! we saw @ huge fire roaring upon the plot before the major’s door. was half a fir-tree in it, and the were spouting up as high es windows. Jim and T but we stare! the more when out came the major, with a great quart pot in his hand, and at his heels his old sister, who kept house for him, and two of the maids, and all four began capering about the fire. He was a douce, quiet man, as all the country knew; and here he wee, like Old Nick at the carlins’ dance, hobbling round, end waving his drink above his head. We both set off run- ning, and he waved the more when coming he re “Huzza, boys! Pene And at that we both fell to dancing and shouting tgo, for it had been such a weary War, as far back as we could remember, and the shadow had lain so long over us that it was wondrous to feel that it was lifted, Indeed, it wag too much to believe, but the major lavehed our doubts to scorn, “Ayo, aye, it Is true,” he eried, ping, with his hand to bis side. silies have got Paris, Poper. thrown up the sponge, and oat all ring allegiance to Lous 2 nein adil