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FKT--fi O w CHAPTER L THE STOr.T OF THOMAS WDCGFIEI I, Thomas Wingfield, was born li Dltehinghoni and in this very room I write today. I am sprung from th( ily of the Wingfields of Wingfield ( In Suffolk, that lies some two huv horseback from this place. My grr thor was a shrewd man, more of n ye than a squire, though tis birth was g Ho lt was who bought this place wit lands round ic and gathered up sonn tune, mostly by carefully niarryinj living, for though ho bad but one s was twice married, and also by iradi cattle. Now, my grandfather was godly m even to superstition, and, strange may seem, having only one son, no: would satisfy him but that thc boy s' bo made a priest. But my father ha tie leaning toward the priesthood an in a monastery, though at all season grandfather strove to reason it into sometimes with words and cxampli others with his thick cudgel of holly still hangs over the ingle in the sn: sitting room. Tho end of it was tba lad was sent to thc priory hero in Bul where his conduct was of such nature within a year thc prior prayed his pa to take him back and set him in sonic of secular life. Not only. said tho i did my father cause scandal by his act breaking out of tho priory at night visiting drinking houses and other pl but such was thc sum of his wicket he did not scruple to question and i mock of thc very doctrines of tho chi alleging even that there was nothing cred in thc image of thc Virgin ? Which stood in the chancel, and shu eyes in prayer before all the congrega When the priest elevated the host. "Tl fore," said thc prior. "I pray you to bock your son and let him lind some o road to thc stake than that which : through thc gates of Bungay priory." i It was believed both by my grandfa and thc prior that thc true cause of m; thcr's contumacy was a passion wine had conceived for a girl of humble bin miller's fair daughter who dwelt at ingford Mills. So the end of it was he went 'to foreign parts in thc care i porty of Spanish monks, who had jour cd hero to Norfolk on a pilgrimage to shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham. Thus it chanced that when he had sr; from Yarmouth a year and six mo; there caine a letter from the abbot of monastery in Seville to his brother, prior of Sr. Mary's at Bungay, saying I my father had lied from thc monastery Two more years passed away, and t came other news-namely, that my fa' had been captured: that he had !> en ed over to the power of the holy office thc accursed inquisition was then nan and tortured to death at Seville. W my grandfather heard tins, he wept'. S he did not believe that my father was d in truth, sino- on thc last day of his c life, that ended two years later, he sp of him as a living man and left mcssu to him as to the management of the la which were now his. And in tho end it became clear that t belief was not ill founded, for one d three years after thc old man's death, tli landed at thc port of Yarmouth none ci er than my father, who had been abs some eight years in all. Xor did he co alone, for with him ho brought a wife young and very lovely lady, who af terw? was my mother. She was a Spaniard noble family, having been born at SovL' and her maiden name was Donna Luisa Garcia. ? Thcro were three of us children-Ge frey, my cider brother, myself and my ? ter Mary, who was ono year my j uni the sweetest child and tho most beau tl that I havo ever known. Wc were v< happy children, and our beauty was 1 pride of our father and mother and t . envy of other parents. I was the dark' of tho three, dark indeed to swarthino but in Mary tho Spanish blood show only in her rich eyes of velvet hue, and tho glow upon her cheek that was like i blush on a ripe fruit. My mother used to call me her lit Spaniard because of my swarthiness-cl is, when my father was nut near, for sti names angered him. Sin* never u speak English very well, but he won suffer her to talk in no other tongue befo him. Still when he was not there s spoke in Spanish, of which language, hoi over, I alone ot thc family became a ms ter, and that was more because of ccrtai volumes of old Spanish romances whit she had by her than for any other miso From my earliest childhood I was fond such tales, and it was by bribing mc wil tho promise that I should read them th; sho persuaded mc to learn Spanish, fi my mother's heart still yearned toward bi old sunny home, and often she would tal of it with uc children, moro especially i tho winter season, which she hated as do. Onco I asked her if she wished to j back to Spain. She shivered and answerc no, for there dwelt one who was her ci erny and would kill her; also her bea: Was with us children and our father. 1 Now, when I was IS)J years old, on certain evening in the month of May, : happened that a friend of my father": Squire Bozard, late of tho hall in this pai ish, called at thc lodge on his road froi yarmouth, and in tho course of his tal let it fall Shut a Spanish ship was at ai chor in tho roads laden with merchandise My father pricked up his ears at this an asked who her captain might be. Squir Bozard answered that he did not kum his name, but that he had seen him in th market place, a tall and stately man, rich ly dressed, with ii handsome face and ; pear upon his temple. At this news my m< thor turned palo be neath her olive skin and muttered in Span ish: . "Holy Mother, grant that lt bo not he!' My father also looked frightened ant questioned tho squire closely as to th< mon's appearance, but without learning anything more. Then he bade him adi) I With little ceremony, and taking horst rodo away for Yarmouth. That night my mother never slept, bul sat all through lt in her nursing chair, brooding over I know not what. As I lcfi her when I wont to my bed so I found hoi When I came from it : t dawn. I can re member well pushing thc door ajar to sei her face glimmering white in thc twilight of thc May morning as she sat, her larg) eyes fixed upon tho lattice. ''You havo risen early, mother," I said. "I havo newer laid down, Thomas," slit answered. "Why not? What do you fear?" "I fear tho past and the future, my son Would thot your father were back." About 10 o'clock of that morning, ns I was making ready to walk Into Bungay to Gio house of thc physician under whom I Was learning the art of healing, my father rodo up. My mother, who was watching at thc lattice, ran out to meet him. Springing from his horse, he embraced her, saying: "Bo of good cheer, sweet; it cannot bc he. This man hos another name." "But did you 6cc hun?" she asked. "No; he was out at his ship for the night, and I hurried home to tell you, knowing your fears. " "It were surer if you had soon him, hus bond. Ho may well have taken another nama" 4,I never thought of that, sweet," my father answered, "but have no fear. Should it be he, and should ho dare to set foot in the parish of Ditchinghnm, there aro those who will know how t<> deal with .him. But I am sure that i* i?- not he." "Thanks he to Jesu then!" she said, ?and they began talking in a low voico. Now, seeing that 1 was not wanted, I took my cudgel and started down tho bridgo path toward the common foot bridge, when suddenly my mother called mc bock. "Kiss me before you gt), Thomas," she said. ".You nr " wonder what all .this may mean. Ui?C day yo?r lather "wm tell "Kiss vic before you ?jo, Tliomas," xhc said. you. It has to clo with a shadow which lias hung over my life for many year?, but that is. I trust, .irone forever." "If it bea man who flings it,'he had best keep out of reach of this, " I said, laughing and Bhaking my thick stick. "It is a man," she answered, "'but ono to be dealt with otherwise than by blows, Thomas, should you ever chance to meet him." '.May be, mother, but might is tho best argument at the last, for the most cunning have a life to lose." ''You are too ri adv to usc your.strength, son." she said, smiling and kissing me. "Romcmbcr tho old Spanish proverb, 'no strikes hardest who strikes last.' " ..And remember the other proverb, mother, 'Strike before thou art strick en,' " I answered and went. I never saw her again till she was dead. CHAPTER II. TOE COMING O'/ THE SPANIARD. And now I must po back and speak of my own matters. As I have told, it waa my father's wish that I should bo a- phy sician, and since I came back from my schooling at Norwich-that Aras when I had entered on my sixteenth year-Iliad studied medicine under tho doctor who practiced Ids art in tin" neighborhood of Bungay. He was a very learned man and an honest, C?limstonc by name and asl had some liking for tho business I mado good.progress undo;* lum. Medic'ne was not thc only thing that 1 studied in those days, however. Squire Bozard of Ditchinghain, the same who told my father of tho coming of the Span* ish ship, had two living children, a son and a daughter, though his wife had horno hun many more who died in infancy. Thc daughter was named Lily and of my own ago, haring been born three weeks after mo in the same year. From our earliest 'lays wo children, Bo zards and Wingfields, lived almost ns brothers and sisters, for day liv day we met and played together in the snow or in tho flowers. Thus it would bo hard for me to say when I began to love Lily or when she began to love mi-, but I know that when I first went to school at Norwich I grieved more at losing sir.' .. of her than because 1 must part from my mother and thc rest. In all our games she was ever my partner, and I would search the country, round for days to find such flowers as she chanced to love. When I came back from school, it was thc same, though by degrees Lily grew shier, and I also grew suddenly shy, perceiving that from a child .she' had be come a woman. Still wo met often, and, though neither said anything of it, it was sweet to us to meet. Thus things went on till this day of my mother's death. But before I go fur;lier I must tell that Squire Bozard looked with no favor on the friendship between his daughter and myself, and this not because he disliked me, but rather because he would have seen Lily wedded to my elder brother, Geoffrey, my father's hi Lr, and not to a younger sen. So hard diu he grow about the matter at last that we two might scarcely nu et except by seeming ac cident, whereas my brother was ever wel come at the hall. And on this account some bitterness arose between us two broth- j ers, as is apt to bo thc case when a woman comes between friends, however close, for it must bc kn iwn that my brother Geoffrey also loved Lily, as all men would have loved her, and with a better right perhaps than I liad, for he' was my elder by three years and burn to possessions Kow, when I had attained 1'.'years I was a man full grown, and, writing as 1 du in extreme old ago I may say itwitiioutfal.se shame, a vcr.' handsome youth to boot. I was not overfall indeed, measuring but 5 feet DJf? inches in height, but my limbs were well made, and I was both deep and broad in tito chest. In color I was, and, my white hair notwithstanding am still, extraordinarily dark hued; my eyes also were large and dark, and my hair, which was wavy, was coal black. In my deport ment 1 was reserved and grave to sadness; in speech I was slow and temperate and more apt at listening than in talking. I Weighed matter.-, well before I made up my mind upon them, but being made up nothinp could turn me from that mind short of death itself, whether it were set on good or evil, on foHy or wisdom. In those days also I had little religion, since partly because of my father's secret teach ing and partly through tho workings of my own n ason I learned to doubt the doc trines of the church as they used to be set out. On this sad day of which I writolknew that Lily, whom I loved, would be walk ing alone beneath tho great pollard oaks Jn thc park at Ditchinghain hall. Herc, in Grubswcll, as the spot is called, grew, indeed still grow, certain hawthorn trees th.:: arc the earliest toblow of any in these parts, and when we bad me;, nt tho church door on the Sunday Lily said that there would be bloom upon them by thc Wednes day, and on that afternoon sho should go to cut it. It may well bo that sho spoko thus with d' sign, for love will breed cun ning in tile hean of thc mos! guileless and truthful maid. Then and there I vowed I to myself that I also would bo gathering hawthorn bloom in this samo place, and on that Wednesday af moon-yes, even if Imust play truant and leave all the sick of Bungay to nature's nursing. More over, I was detcrmitu don one tiling-that if I could lind Lily alone I would delay no longer, but tell her all that was in my heart, no great secret indeed, for though no word of love had ever passed between us as yet each know thc other's hidden thoughts. Now, it chanced that on this afternoon 1 was hard put to it to escape to my tryst, for my master, the physician, was ailing and sent me to visit the sick for him, carrying them their medicines. At thc last, however, between -1 and 5 o'clock, I lied, asking no leave. Taking tho Nor wich road. I ran for a mile and more till I had passed tho Manor House and thc church turn and drew near to Ditching ham park. Then I dropped my pace to a walk, for I did not wish to como before Lily heated .-.nd disordered, hut rather looking ny best, to which end I had put on my $ uuday garments. Now, as I went down tho little hill in the road that runs past the parki saw a man on horsclv.cl: who looked ilrsl ai tho bridle path thal a? this spot tums off to tho right, then back across thc common lands toward the Vine yard hills and the Wav ney, and then along thc road, as though he did not know Which way to turn. I was quick to notice things, though at this moment my mind was not at its swiftest, being set on oilier matters and chiefly as t" how i should tell my tale to Lily, and I saw at once that this man was not of our country. Ho was very tall and noble looking, dressed in rich garments of velvet adorned hy a crold chain that hum: about his neck. ' I ? ll III 1 III III I I ?w,l-mn-?.Ill? l-l? -.T? ~ft?(i,~ :is~l -3iulged,~ab?ut '40 years ol But it was his face which chiefly ci my eye, for that moment there was ? thing terrible about it. It was long, and deeply carved. Tho eyes were and gleamed like gold in sunlight mouth was small and well shaped, b wore a devilish and cruel sneer; thc head lofty, indicating a man of mind marked with a slight scar. For the the cavalier was dark and southern ing; his curling hair, like my own, black, and ho wore a peaked chestnui orcd beard. By thc time that I had finished I observations my feet had brought no most to thc stranger's side, and foi first time he caught sight of me. Inst' his face changed, tho sneer left it, a: became kindly and pleasant looking, ing his bonnet with much courtes; stammered something in broken En) of which all I could catch was thc i Yarmouth Then, perceiving that I not understand him, ho cursed thc 3 lish tongue, and all those who spok aloud and in good Castilian. "If thc senor will graciously expr?s wish in Spanish," I said, speaking in language, "it may bc in my power to him." "What, you speak Spanish, young ? he said, starting, "and yet you arc v Spaniard, though by your faco you might be. Caramba, but it is stran? and he eyed mc curiously. "It maybe ?trange, sir," I answc "but I um in haste. Be pleased to your question and let me go." "Ah," he said, '"perhaps I can gucsf reason of your hum-. I saw n white j down hythe streamlet yonder," and nodded toward thc park. "Take thc vice of an older man, young sir, am careful. Make what sport you will v such, but never believe them and n< marry them-lest you should live to dc to kill them!" Here I made as though I would pass but lie spoke again: "Pardon my words; they wcro i meant, and perhaps you may come tole their truth. I will detain you no mi Will you graciously direct me on my r to Yarmouth, for I om not sure of it, 1 ing ridden by another way, and your E lish country is so full of trees that a n cannot sec a mile?" I walked a dozen paces down the br; path that joined the road at this place ? pointed out thc way that he should past Ditchingham church. As I did ? noticed that while I spoko thc stran was watching my face keenly, and it sec ed to me with an inward fear which strove to master and could not. Who had finished, he raised his bonnet ? thanked mc, saying: "Will you bc so gracious as to tell your name, young sir!'" "What is my name to you?" I answe roughly, for I disliked this man. "'S have not told me yours. " "No. indeed; I am traveling incogni Perhaps I also have met a lady in til parts," and he smiled strangely. "I oi wished to know thc name of ono who 1 done mc a courtesy, but who, it seems, not so courteous asl deemed." And shook his horse's reins. "I am not ashamed of my name,' said. "It has been an honest one so f and if vou wish to know it it is Thon Wingfield." "I thought it," he cried, and ashespc his face grew like thc face of a fiend. Th before I could lind time even to wont he had sprung from his horse and sto within three paces of me. "A lucky day! Now wc will sec wi: truth there is in prophecies, " he sai drawing his silver mounted sword name for a name; Juan de Garcia gi\ you greeting, Thomas Wingfield." Now, strange as it may seem, it was this moment only that there flashed acre my mind thc thought of all that I h heard about thc Spanish stranger, thc i port of whose coming to Yarmouth hi stirred my father and mother so dccpl At any other time I should have remci herod it soon enough, but on this day was so set upon my tryst with Lily ai what I should say to her that nothh else could hold a place in my thoughts. '"This must bc thc man," I said to m self, and then I said no moro, for he W on me, sword up. I saw tho keen poii flash toward mo and sprang to one sid having a desiro to fly, as, being unarm< except for my stick, I might havo doi without shame. But spring as I would could not avoid the thrust altogether, was aimed at my heart, and it pierced tl sleeve of my left arm, passing through tl flesh-no more. Yet at thc pain of that ci all thought of flight left mc, and instcc of it a cold anger filled mc, causing mc 1 wish to kill this man who had attackc me thus and unprovoked. In my han was my stout oaken staff, which I had ci myself on the banks of Hollow hill, and I would fight I must make such play wit Ibis as I might. It seems a poor wcapo indeed to match against a Toledo blade i the hands of one who could handle it wei and yet there are virtues in a cudgel, fe when a man sees himself threatened wit it he is likely to forget that he holds i his hand a more deadly weapon, and t take to tho guarding of his own head i placo of running his adversar}' throug the body. And that was what chanced in this case though how it came about exactly I can not tell. Thc Spaniard was a fine sword.? man, and had I been armed as ho wa would doubtless have overmatched mc who at that agc had no practice in thc art which was almost unknown in England But when he saw thc big stick flourishci over him ho forgot his own advantage am raised his arm to ward away tho blow Down it came upon tho back of his hand and his^feword fell from it to tho gross But I did not sparo him becauso of that for my blood was up. Tho next stroki took him on tho lips, knocking out a tooti and sending him backward. Then I caugh him by tho leg and boat him unmerciful ly, not upon tho head indeed, for now thai I was victor I did not wish to kill on< whom I thought a madman, as I wouk that I had done, but on every other part ol him. Indeed I thrashed him till my arms were weary, and then I fell to kicking him, and all the whilo he writhed liko a wounded snake and cursed horribly, though ho ncvci cried out or asked for mercy. At last 1 ceased and looked at him, and he was nc pretty sight to seo. Indeed what with his cuts and bruises and tho miro of the road way it would have been hard to know him for thc gallant cavalier whom I had mot not five minutes before. But uglier than all his hurts was tho look in his wicked eyes as he lay there on his back in thc path way and glared up at mc. "Now, friend Spaniard," I said, "you have learned a lesson, and what is there to hinder mc from treating you as you would have dealt with mo who had never harmed your"' And I took up his sword and held it to his throat. "Strike home, you accursed whelp!" ho answered in a broken voice. "It is better to die than live to remember such shame as this." ..No," I said; "I nm no foreign murder er to kill a defenseless man. You shall away to thc justice to answer for yourself. The hangman has a rope for suchas you." "Then you must drag mo thither, " ho groaned and shut his eyes as though with faintness, and doubtless he was somewhat faint. Now, as I pondered on what should bo done wit li t he villain, it chanced that I looked ii]) through a nap In tho fence, and there, anion;: thc Grubswcll oaks 800yards or more away, I caught sight of the flutter of u white robo that I knew well, and it seemed to mc that ll)'1 wearer of that robe was moving toward tho bridge of tho "wa tering, " as though slie were weary of wait ing for one who did not come. Thon I thought to myself that if I staid to drag this man to the village stocks or some oilier sale pince there would bean end of meeting wil li my love that day, and I did not know when I might lind another chance. Now, I would not have missed that hour's talk willi Lily to bring a score of murderous minded foreigners to their de serts. Ami, mor -.VIT,"this oin; had eimeo good payment lor his behavior. Surely, though I I, ho might wait.awhile till I had douo my lovemaking, and if he would not wait I could lind a means to make him do so. Xi it JO paces from us the horse stood cropping the grass. I went to him and undid his bridle rein, and with it fastened tho Spaniard to a small wayside tree as best I was aide. "Now, here you stay," I said, "till I am ready to fetch you," and I turned to go. But as I went a great doubt took mc, caco more I remembered ?ni' mother's "four, and~how my father nacl n??'on in liaste to Yarmouth on business about J Spaniard. Now today a Spaniard had wan dered to Ditchingham, and when he learn ed my name had fallen upon me, madly trying to kill me. Was not this tho man whom my mother feared, and wus it right that I should leave him thus that I might go Maying with my dear? I know in my breast that it was not right, but I was so Bet upon my desire and so strongly did my heartstrings pull mo toward her whose white robe now fluttered on tho slope of thc Park hill that I never heeded tho warning. Well had it been for mc if I had dono so and well for some who were yet unborn. Then they had never known death, nor I tho land of exile, thc tasto of slavciy and tho altar of sacrifico. CHAPTER ni. THOMAS TELLS HIS LOVE. Having mudo tho Spaniard as fast as I could, his arms being bound to the treo behind him, and taking his sword with mc, I began to run hard after Lily and caught her not too soon, for in ono moro minute she would have turned along tho road that runs to tho watering and over tho bridge by the Park hill path to tho hall. Hearing my footsteps, sho faced about to greet mo, or lather as though to seo who it was that followed her. Thcro sho stood In tho evening light, a bough of hawthorn bloom in her hand, and my heart beat yet moro wildly at thc sight of her. Never had she seemed fairer than as sho stood thus in her white robe, a look of amazo upon her face and in her gray eyes that was half real, half feigned, and with tho sunlight shifting on her auburn hair that showed beneath her little bonnet. Lily was no round checked country maid, with few beauties save thoso of health and youth, but a tall and shapely lady, who hud ripened carly to her full grace and sweetness, and so it carno about that, though wo were almost of an ago, yet In her presence I felt always as though I were thc younger. Thus in my love for her was mingled some touch of reverence. ''Oh, it is you, Thomas," she said, blush ing as she spoke. "I thought you wera Urn-tug made thc Spaniard as fast as I could. not-I mean that I a:n going home, as it grows late. But, say, why do you run so fast, and what has happened to you, Thomas, that your arm is bloody and you carry a sword in your hand?" ' I have no breath to speak yet," I an swered. "Comeback to tho hawthorns, and I will tell you." "No; I must be wending homeward. I have been among thc trees for more than an hour, and there is little- bloom upon them." ''I could nop come before, Lily. I wa3 kept and in a strange manner; also I saw bloom as I ran." "Indeed I never thought that you would como, Thomas," she answered, looking down, "who havo other things to do than to go out Maying like a girl. But I wish to hear your story, if it is short, and I will walk a little way with you." So wo turned and walked side by side toward thc great pollard oaks, and by tho time that we reached them I had told her tho talo of thc Spaniard, and how ho 6trovo to kill mc, and how I had beaten him with my staff. Now, Lily listened ea gerly enough and sighed with fear when sho learned how close I had been to death. "But you are wounded, Thomas!" she broke in. "Sec, thc blood runs fast from your arm. Is thc thrust deep?" "I have not looked to sec. I havo had no time to look." "Take off your coat, Thomas, that I may dress the wound. Nay, I will have it so." So I drew off the garment, not without pain, and rolled up tho shirt beneath, and the:c was the hurt-a clean thrust through tnc fleshy part of thc lower arm. LUy washed it with water from the brook and bound lt with her kerchief, murmuring words of pity all thc while. To say truth, I would have suffered a worso harm glad ly if only I could And her to tend it. In deed her gentle care broke down .the fenco of my doubts and gave mo a courage that otherwise might have failed mo in her presence. At first indeed I could find no words, but as she bound my wound I bont down and kissed her ministering hand. Sho flushed red as thc evening 6ky, tho flood of crimson losing itself at last bc ncuth her auburn hair, but it burned deep est upon thc white hand which I had kiss ed. "Why did you do that, Thomas?" sho 6aid in a low voice. Then I spoke. "I did lt becauso I lovo you, Lily, and do not know how to begin the telling of my love. I love you, dear, and havo always loved, us I always shall lovo you." "Aro you so suro of that, Thomas?" she said again. "Thcro is nothing clso in tho world of which I am so sure, Lily. What I wish to be as suro of is that you lovo mo as I love you." For a moment she stood quiet, her head sunk almost to her breast. Then she lift ed it, and her eyes shone as I had never seen them sh ino before. . "Cun you doubt it, Thomas?" sho said. And now I took her in my arms and kissed her on the lips, and tho memory of that kiss has gone with mo through my long lifo and is with mo yot, when, old and withered, I stand upon tho borders of tho gruvo. It wus tho greatest joy that has been given to me in all my days. Too soon, nias! it was done, that first pure kiss of youthful love, and I spoke again, some what aimlessly: "It seems, then, that you do lovo mo who love you so well?" "If you doubted it before, can you doubt it now?" she answered very softly. '-Rut liston, Thomas. It is well that we should lovo each other, for wo were born to it and have no help in the mutter, even if wo wished to find it. Still, though love bo sweet und holy, it is not all, for thoro is duty to bc thought of, and what will my father say to this, Thomas?" "I do not know, Lily, and yet I can guess. I am sure, sweet, that ho wishes you to take my brother Gooff rey and leave mo on one side. " "Then his wishes arc not mine., Thomas; also, though duty be strong, it is not strong enough to force a woman to a mar riage for which she hus no liking. Yet it may prove strong enough to keep a woman from a marriage for which her heurt pleads. Perhaps also lt should have been strong enough to hold mc back from tho telling of my love.1 ' "No, Lily; thc love itself la much, and though it should bring no fruit, still it is something to have won it forever and a day." "You nm very young to talk thus, Thomas. J uni also young, I know, but wo women ripen quicker. Perhaps all this is but a boy's fancy, to pass with boy hood." '.It will never pass, Lily. They say that our first loves are the longest, and that which is sown in youth will flourish in our age. Listen, Lily. I have my place to make in the world, and it may take a time in the making, and I ask one promise of you, though perhaps lt is a selfish thing to seek. I ask of you that you will be faith ful to me. and, come fair weather or foul, will wed no other man till you know me dead." "It is something to promise. Thomas, for with timo como changea, still lair --i sure erf uiysoif timi I atomise- bur. ' "swear ic. Ol juu i cannot bc sure, things arc so wit b us women that wc ii risk all upon a throw, and if wc lose g by to happiness." Then wo talked cn, and I cannot member what we said, though these w I have written down remain in my m partly because of their own weight in part because of all that came abou thc after years. And at last I knew that I must though wc were sad enough at parting So I took lier in my arms and kissed so closely that some blood from my wo ran down her white attire. But as embraced I chanced to look up and sa Fight that frightened mc enough, there, not five paces from us, stood Sq' Bozard, Lily's father, watching all, his face wore no smile. He had been riding by a bridle pat] tho watering ford, and seeing a coi trespassing beneath thc oaks dismour from Iiis horse to hunt them away, till ho was quite near did lie lenow wi: ho came to hunt, and then ho stood f in astonishment. He was a short, st man, with a red face and stern, gray c that 6cemcd to bc starting from Iiis h with anger. For awhile ho could speak, but when ho began ab length words came fast enouglu All that he s I forget, but thc upshot of it was that desired to know what my business i with his daughter. I waited till ho i out of breath, then answered him t Lily and I loved each other well and w plighting our troth. '.Is this so, daughter?" he asked. "It is so, my father," sho answc boldly. Then ho broke out swearing. "y light minx," he said, "you shall bc wh ped and kept cool on bread and water your chamber. And for you, my half b: Spanish cockerel, know once and for that this maid is for your betters. H dare you come wooing my daughter, j empty pillbox, who have not two silver pi nies to rattle in your pouch! Go win f tuno and a name before you tiaro to lc up to such as she!" "That is my desire, and I will do sir," I answered. "So, you apothecary's drudge, you w win name and place, will you? We long before that deed ls dono tho mt 6hull bo safely wedded to ono who 1 them and who is not unknown to ye "Daughter, say now that you have finish with him." ''I cannot say that, father," she replie plucking at her robe. "If it is not yo will that I should marry Thomas hoi my duty is plain, and I may not wed hil But I am my own, and no duty can ma mo marry whero I will not. While Thom lives I am sworn to him and to no oth man." "At thc least you have courage, hussy said her father. " But listen now. Kith you will marry where and when I wi or tramp lt for your bread. Ungratcf girl, did I breed you to flaunt me to n face? Now for you, pillbox! I will tea* you to como kissing honest men's daug tors without their leave, " and with a cur he rushed at mc, stick aloft, to thrash m Then for thc second time that day n quick blood boiled in mc, and snatchir up thc Spaniard's sword that lay upon tl grass beside me I held it at tho point, f the game was changed, and I who lu fought with cudgel against sword mu now light with sword against cudgel. Ar had it not been that Lily, with a qul< cry of fear, struck my arm from beneutl causing the point of the sword to pass ovi his shoulder, I believe truly chat I shoul then and there have pierced her fathi through and ended my days early with uoosj about my neck. '"Are you mad?" she cried, "and do yo think to win mc by slaying my fa thc Throw down that sword, Thomas." "As for winning you, it seems thatthui is small chanco of it, " I answered hotlj "but I tell you this-not for the sake of a thc maids upon the earth will I stand t bc beaten with a stick like a scullion." "And there I do not biomo you, lad, said her father, more kindly. "I sec the you also have courage, which may scrv you in good stead, and it was unworth of mc to call you 'pillbox' in my ange) Still, os I have said, the girl is not for yoi; so begone and forget her as best you maj and if you value your lifo never let m And you two kissing again. And kno^ that tomorrow I will have a word wit your father on this matter." "I will go, since I must go, " I answer cd, "but, sir, I still hope to live to cul your daughter wife. Lily, farewell til theso storms arc overpast." '.Farewell, Thomas," she said, weeping "Forget mc not, and I will never forge my oath to you." Then, taking Lily by the arm, her fathc led her away. I also went away-sud, but not alto gcther ill pleased, for now I knew that i I had won thc father's anger I had als< won thc daughter's unalterable love, anc love lasts longer than wrath, and here o; hereafter will win Its way at length When I had gone a little distance, I re membered the Spaniard, who hud beer clean forgotten by me in all this lovo am war, and I turned to seek him and drar. him to tho stocks, which I should havi dono with joy and been glad to find sonu one on whom to wreak my wrongs. Bul when I came to thc spot where I had lcfl him I found that fate had befriended him by thc hand of a fool, for thcro was nc Spaniard, but only thc villugo idiot, Bill j Minns by name, who stood staring first at tho troc to which thc foreigner had been made fast and then at a pieco of silver in his hand. '.Whero ls tho man who was tied hero, Billy?" I asked. "I know not, Master Thomas, " ho an swered in his Norfolk talk, which I will not set down. "Hulf way to wheresoever ho was going, I should say, measured by tho puce at which ho left when once I had sat him upon his horse Lawks, but ho was glad to be gone! How he did gallop!" "Now, you arc a bigger fool even than I thought you, Billy Minns," I said in an ger. '"That man would have murdered me. I overcamo him and made him fast, and you have let him go." "He would have murdered you, master, and you made him fast! Well, ho's gone, and this alone is left of him." And ho spun thc piece into the air. Now, seeing that there was reason In Billy's talk, for tho fault was mine, I turned away without more words, not straight homeward, for I wished to think alone awhile on all that had como about between me and Lily and her father, but down thc way which runs ocross thc hmo to tho crest of the Vineyard hills. Theso hills are clothed with underwood, in which large oaks grow to within somo 2U0 yards of this house where I write, and this un derwood is pierced bypaths that my moth er laid out, for sho loved to walk hero. Ono of these paths runs along the bottom of tho hill by the edge of tho pleasant river Woven ey and thc other a hundred feet or more above and near tho crest of the slope, or, to speak more plainly, thcro is but one [lath, shaped like tho letter O, placed longitudinally, tho curved ends of the letter marking how thc path turns upon the hillside. Now, I si ruck the path at tho end that is farthest from this houso and followed that half of it which runs down by tho river bank, having thc water on one sido of lt und tho brushwood upon thc other. Along this lower path I wandered, my eyes fixed upon tho ground, thinking deep ly as I went, now of tho Joy of Lily's lovo and now of tho sorrow of our parting and of her fal lier's wrath, and my eyes fell upon footprints iii tho wet sand of the pnth. One of them was my mother's. I could have sworn to it among a thousand, for i!?o other woman in these parts had so delimite a foot. Close to it-, as though fol low big after, was another that ut first I thought must also have been made by a woman-lt was so narrow. But presently I t?avr that this could scarcely bc, becauso of itfi length, and, moreover, that tho boot which left it was like none that I know, being cut very high nt the Instep Mid very pointed at tho toe. Then of a sudden it came upon me that tho Spanish stranger wura such boots, for I had noted them while I talked with him, and that his feet were following those of my motlier, for they had trodden on her track, and in some places his alone had stamped their impress on tho sand, blot ting out her footprints. Here t ivy were mixed one with another, as though the two had stood close togeth er, moving now this way and now that in struggle. I looked up the pal h. hut there wen; none. Then I east round about like a beadle, first .idegg. Oe river sid". t'"m up thc Dunk, iicro they were- again, ana mado by feet that flew and feet that fol lowed. "Up tho bank they went 50 yards and more, now lost where the turf was sound, now seen In sand or loam, till they led to thc bolo of a big oak and were once more mixed together, for here the pursuer had como up with thc pursued. Despairingly as ono who dreams, for now I guessed all and grew mad with fear, I looked this way and that till at length 1 found moro footsteps-those of tho Span iard. These were deep marked, as of n man who carried somo heavy burden. I followed them. First they went down tho hill toward tho river, then turned asido to a spot whero tho brushwood was thick. In the deepest of thc clump thc boughs, now bursting into leaf, were bent down ward as though to hide something beneath. I wrenched them aside, and there, gleam ing whitely in thc gathering twilight, was tho dead face of my mother! CHAPTER IV. TnOMAS SWEARS AX OATH. For awhile I stood amazed with horror, 6taring down at thc dead faco of my be loved mother. Then I stooped to lift her and saw that she had been stabbed, and through thc breast-stabbed with the sword which I carried in my hand. Now I understood. This was thc work of that Spanish stranaer whom I had met os he hurried from the placo of murder, who, because of thc wickedness of his heart For awhile I atood amazed with luyrror. or for 6omo secret reason, had striven to slay mc also wheo he leurned that I was my mother's :: m. And I had hold this devil in my power, and that I might meet my May I had suffered him to escape my vengeance whereas had I known the truth I woidd have dealt with him as the priests of Anahuac?cnl with the victims of their gods. I understood and shed tears of pity, rage and shame. Then I turned and fled homeward like one mad. At the.doorway I met my father and my brother Geoffrey riding up from Bungay market, and there was that wrltton on my face which caused thurn to ask ;u>with one voice: "What evil tiling has hnppcncd?" Thrice I looked at my father before I could speak, for I feared lest the blow should kill him. Hut speak I must ot last, though I chose that it should be to Geof frey, my bri it her. "'Our mother lies mur dered yonder on thc Vineyard hilL A Spanish man has done the deed Juan de Garcia by name." When my father heard these words, his face became livid os though with pain of thc heart, his jaw fell, and a low moan issued from his open mouth. Presently he rested his hand upon tho pommel of the saddle, and lifting his ghastly face he said: ''Where is this Spaniard? Have you killed him?" "No, father. Ho chanced upon me In crubswcll, and when he learned my nome ho would have murdered mc. But I played quarter staff with him and beat him to a pulp, taking his sword. " "Aye, and then?" "And then I let him go, knowing noth ing of thc deed he had already wrought upon our mother. Afterward I will tell you all." "You let him go. son? You let Jean de Garcia go! Then, Taenias, may the ourse of God rest upon you fill you And him and finish that which you began today." "Spare to curso mo, father, who am ac cursed by my own conscience. Turn your horses rather and ride for Yarmouth, for there his ship lies, and thither ho has gone with two hours' start. Perhaps you may still trap him before he sets sail." Without nnother word my father and brother wheeled their horses round and de parted at full gallop into thc gloom of tho gathering night. They rode so fiercely that, their horses being good, they came to tho gates of Yar mouth in lit tle moro than 1% hours, and that is fast riding. But the bird waa flown. Tliey tracked him to tho quay and found that he had shipped awhile before in a boat which was in waiting for him and passed to his vessel, which lay in the roads at anchor, but with thc most of her canvas set. Instantly she sailed and now was lost in the night. Then my father caused notico to bc given that ho would pay a reward of 200 pieces in gold to any ship that would capture thc Spaniard, and two started on thc quest, but they did not find her that before morning was far on her wuy across thc sea. At length the morning carno, and with it my father and brother, who returned from Yarmouth on hired horses, for their own were spent. In tho afternoon also news followed them that tho ships which had put to sea on thc track of tho Span iard had been driven back by bad weather, ha vi na seen nothlm/ BE CONTINUED.] r??tAA???A????????At??? ww v w ? ? VVVVVVTVFWV THE STANDARD. | ! DURANG'S j IRHEJMATIC REMEDY! ? o ?Has unstained its reputation for 18years* as being the- standard remedy for the ? ? quick und permanent care of Rheuma- ? ? ti.sm, Gout. Sciatica, etc., lu ell its forms. ? ? lt is endorsed by thousands of Pbysi- ? w clans. Publishers and Patients, lt ls . ?> purely vegetable and builds up from the ? w first dose, lt never fails to eure. w w 1'rice is one dollar a bottle, or six ? ? bottles for five dollars. Our 40-page Pam- ? ? phlet sent Free by Mail. Address, ? I Drag's Rheumatic Remedy Co. | ? 13?6 LStreet.Washington, D.C. ? ? Burang's Liver I'illsaie the best on Y X earth. 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