Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, November 03, 1859, Image 1
(HE DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOWANDA : Thursday Morning, November 3, 1859. [From Blaekwood's Magazine.] COUSIN JOHN S PROPERTY. CONCLUSION. It had been Mrs. Simpson's wish to have accompanied her husband on this pleasant voyage of discovery but that was a step which he himself by no means approved of ; and as the Messrs. Grindlcs gave it also as their opin ion that such a visit would be rather prema ture —iu fact, that it would hardly look well —that lady, who was a staunch maiutaiuer of decorum in all its branches, gave way at once. Aud if her proposal, in nuy degree, savored of undue haste to step into the dead cousiu's shoes, she hastened amply to atone for it, by ordering the deepest and most ex pensive mourniug for the whole Portland Ter raee establishment. It would no doubt have gratified the feelings of the late Mr. John iu the highest degree, and have almost reconcil ed him to his fortunate representatives, if he could have overlooked his sorrowing relative giving directions to her milliner to have " ev ery thing of the be>t, and just as if it was for a brother," and have felt the thickness of the silks, and measured the depth of the crape. So leaving Mrs. Simpson thus dutifully en gaged. her husband went down into Surrey with the junior Mr. Grindle in his dog-cart.— You might have called Mr. Grindle a bad law yer, and he would have only laughed at you, or even have taken it as a compliment ; but to have questioned bis driving would have been to make an enemy of hiiu for life. The uiare was skittish, and the worthy citizeu felt or fancied himself in peril of an overthrow more than once, aud inwardly resolved not to include a vehicle of that description in his list or ne cessaries for a country gentleman's establish ment ; but having the prudence to coufine his fears to himself, and risking no remark upou the subject beyond the unobjectionable obser vation that the mare was " very fresh," they arrived at Bartou End quite safely, and on ex cellent terms with each other. "We must stay here two or three days," said the lawyer. " I haven't been able to get down here for some time, and there are a good many things to be looked into : and of course I should like, while we are here, to show you over the estate : besides, I've asked a friend to meet uie here for a day's shooting ; generally get a couple of good days here iu the course of a year ; your eorfsiu, Mr. John, you see. always left me that privilege—can't say how it's to be in the futiire, you know, of course," continued Mr Grindle, with what he meant for a sort of deferential smile, but ac companied with a gentle nudge which might struck any oue but Mr. Simpsou as rather fa miliar. But Mr. Grindle knew his man, and had an eye to securing the agency us well as the shooting. "Oh ! lam sure, I hope—l beg by all means— if I'm ever iu that position I mean, and if you were good enough to do my little business for me—" " Time euongh, my dear sir, to talk al>out those thiugs ; at preseut, you understand I act tor Mr. Jc in S'.mpsi H." Mr. Grindle had perfectly satisfied himself onthepoiut on which he had been very properly anxious ; aud r.ow be put the question by so quietly and decided ly, that poor Mr. Simpson felt quite rebuked, as if he himself had very indecorously brought it forward. " You don't shoot, yourself, perhaps?" re sumed the lawyer, after a decent interval, which he kiudly allowed his eouquiou tor repent ance aud recovery. Mr. Simpson might have replied, " Do I look as if I did?" but he contented himself with a sunle and a shake of the head. " Well, I dare say you can amuse yourself if I am so uncivil as to leave you for a day ; there's the mare aud cart, very much at your service," 7 Mr Simpson bowed his acknowledgments, bat without the slightest idea of interfering with the mare's retirement He had been wishing there was an omnibus handy for his journey home ; and was very glad to descend from his seat and follow Mr. Griiidle, who seemed quite at heme, into a comfortable lock ing room, with a good fire, which had evident ly beeu a library. " Dinner will be ready in half an hoar, gen tlemen," said the old muu who had ushered them in. " ADd we shall be quite ready for it," said the lawyer ; Mr. Simpson uot being prepared with a reply. Matters were not nearly so comfortable in Portland Terrace. It so happened that the very evening of Mr. Simpou's departure, Geo. Harrison had run down, iu more than his usu ally joyous spirits, with a little good news of bis own for Mary. The long-hoped for aug mentation of his salary had come at last. The uncle who had taken him into his counting bouse—and who was his guardian, for George had lost his father—was a strict man, and somewhat eccentric in hi?ays, but very just He bad a large family of his own, aud though the business was extensive and lucrative, it had always beeu well unde*stood that George most entertain DO expectations of future part nership, as that would be the sous' inheritance. Two of them wereclerks in tbe counting hoooe. and the rather kept as strictly to tbeir desk-, or rather more strictly, than any oue else in the establishment. George Harrison might consider himself fortunate in occupying the position that he did, which was independent and respectable ; and perhaps be was eveu still more fortunate in having to work his own way under eves which were oot easily cheated or evaded, and where no mercy was shown to any wilful neglect. He did his best ; and thoagh his node had never done more than express himself as quite satisfied, he found that when w fair opportunity offered of advancing his, he was not forgotten. His cousins would no doubt iu time become members of the firm, but they were young ; and George found bis. THE BRADFORD REPORTER. self now promoted to a vacancy which the father know he was at preseut much Fetter qualified to fill. It ofTered but a very modest income to marry upou, certainly ; but Mary had no graud ideas : and George thought eveu the Times minimum income for young couples would bear reduction. At any rate, he ran down to Portlaud Terrace (eager as he was, uot a sixpence would he waste iu cab-hire),aud rushed in very wet and very happy to rejoice and consult with Mary. Mrs. Simpson was i in her own room, very busy with the dressmak ; cr ; Augusta, who was a good-natured girl euough.und very fond of her sister, and will ing also no doubt to do as she be done by, found she had something to look after in the kitchen ; though her conscience smote her afterwards for weakly allowing her feelings to iuterfere with her duty, having fully adopted her mother's views at a conference held the evening before, that it would be a thousand i pities now, when Maty might do so well, and form an undeniable connection, "to your ad- \ vantage, you know my dear, as well,*' said the thoughtful mother, "for her to go and throw herself upon that young Harrison." The coast being clear, however, Mary and her lover had I a good three-quarters of an hour to themselves before Mrs. Simpson knew that he was in the house ; and how much may be said and done j , in three-quarters of nil hour judicionslj em ployed. On the stage, a whole petite cornedie, comprehending , at least two pairs of lovers and their fortunes, is performed within the time ; in real life, all that is worth remember ing iu the loug, dull drama of existence, for either man or woman, is often played out in less ; the rest of it— scenes, characters, and dialogue —might be all cut out without de stroying the interest, if uot with advantage to the lookers ou. But for the two young hearts now beating uear each other (very near in deed it wa> in Mrs. Simpson's parlor, though without her sanction, the grand act of life had been played already, long siucc ; it was only the winding up of the piece which they had to settle, and that was soon done.— ; If Mary didn't think it too little to live upon, why, George didn't. If George thought they ; eould manage, then Mary was sure they could. In a meeting so unanimous, the resolutions do not require much discussion. The arguments are admitted ou both sides ; or rather, both sides are one. If any unpleasant suggestion —one of the prudence party — intrudes itself, the course is obvious—"turn him out." What ; means freedom of discussiou on such subjects —indeed ou anv subject—except freedom to discuss it as much and as little as yon like ? Then she told him—and was glad she had uot told him before —of the possibility that she might have " a little something" too. Papa j would not let her come to him quite penqiless now ; aud some day or other— perhaps when they most wanted it, " for their children," iu her pure iunocence she said—he might—she , was sure he would—do all that he fairly could for her. And George was almost angry with her having any thing to promise him be sides herself. Three-quarters of an hour was it ? why it did not sceui five minutes. ( Augusta thought the clock had stopped, for the kitchen fire was low, and Betsy was snappish, and uot so much inclined for gossip as usual ; her young man was waiting at the area steps, which aeeoont ed for a low whistle every five minutes, start ling Augusta. Betsy said tiie cat had a cold.) ] Three-quarte's of an hour it was though, neith er more nor less, aud George must go ; couldn't even stay supper as usual: be would have more work to do now, and there was something to. be attended to that very night; he "had rather go," ami Mary did not ask him t<> stay So the mischief was done, aud George llarri i son half-way botue to his humble Lodgings, he | fore Mrs. Simpson descended to supper. She was in a benignant mood, for the new gowns fitted admirably, aud ining what the dress maker called " rather jolly"—which only im plies that which iu jWiter language is catted well-developed proportions—she was conscious that she looked well iti black. Even the a:: : uouncement which Mary very innocently made \ at supper time, that George had been there, neither spoilt her teuqier nor her eppetste : be was gone again, that was a comfort : but she would lose no time in having a talk with | Mary. So when she had finished her moder- j ate glass of rum-and-w ater, she was not sorry "o see her younger daughter who had not spent a satisfactory evening on the whole, hav rig -at for what seemed 'o her an unconscious able t me in the dark with the cross Betsy ami an uneasy eo: science take up her eandle-stn with a yawn and proceed to bed. Mary, too. had something to say. It was with some lit tie misgiving—more certainly than she should have felt a fortnight back—that she told her mother of George's advancement, and how he had now taken courage actually to speak about their marriage She did not feel quite sure, when she recalled certain hints and side-speech m Mrs. Simpson was great hi that line ad dressed during the last few days rather to Au gu-ta than herself, about hasty engagements, and imprudent marriages ar.d the duty of pay ing due regard to the station in which people were placed, whether what she had to teli would be received quite as she could wish. While George wa- with her, she had seen no difficulties in the wav ; but no*alone with her mother, all her joy and confidence were gone. But if she spoke hesitatingly, and an ticipating a somewhat colder reception for her confession than the good hum red banter which she had grown accustomed to ou this same sub ject, Litie indeed was she prepared for the storm of anger which burst upon her. >ever bad Mrs S.mpsoo been seen so angry. She was provoked with herself for having so de layed her lecture to !he elder daughter so long ; angry with her whole bocsehold for having been accomplices in securing that im portant three quarters of an hour for George and Mary's conspiracy against her ; angry with the dressmaker for having come at thai particolar crisis—an hour behind her appoint ment —she must have done it on purpose ; and acgrv beyond measure wuh Harrison I for having out z oeraiii her cherished by a little straightforward dealing See -ai PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. ! trusted more to the hope of disgusting hitn in ■ time by a careful system of cold receptions, , and change of manner, than to any positive ■ effect which she expected to produce upon her i daughter by any hints of her improved value ; j iu the matrimonial market, or direct exhorta tions to make the most of her new position. George, she knew, had an honest and indepen dent spirit; once let him feel that he was sus pected of pressing his suit now because there was money in the ease, and however unreason able the accusation, his pride might take of fence. Then Marv might go into the country, out of his way ; and so in time, this unlucky love might go the way of many others, become one more of those little silent sacrifices laid up on the altars of wealth and pride—nlites in \ the estimation of a prudeut public, but some- i times to the offerers more costly than "all f their living"—and be gradually reduced with ; hymns and libations from Mrs. Simpson as j high priestess, to ashes. So at first, even now, instead of attacking Mary, she began by opening fire upon George. It was a mistake, Mrs. Simpson, and as a wo man you ought to have known it In a calm er mood, you would never have made a first move so utterly destructive of your game.— Mary might have taken a good amount of scold | ing for herself quietly ; however cruel and un warrantable she might have felt her mother's conduct to be, a few gentle expostulations and i a bitter flood of tears would have been, her on ly reply that evening. Mary and her mother might have fewer interests and fee lings in com mon than was good for either ; but tliere had never yet been injustice on one side, or any lack of dutiful affection on the other. But when Mrs, Simpson pau>ed for breath after an alternation of violent abuse and attempted sar casm against George Harrison as "a low,mer cenary creature," having declared her own firm belief that this opportune increase of his salary was nothing but a " move" got up between Irtmseif and his uncle in order to nail the Simp sons to the point at once, she saw that Mary, ; though she trembled very much, ha i'risen from her seat, and was looking at her with a very ; cairn aud composed couuteuance, ou which there was no symptom of a tear. " Mother !" said the girl, " you don't mean that of George?" Mrs. Simpson uid not mean it in her heart; but she had meant to say it, and had said it ; i and she said it again, more violently than ev- I tr, because she felt its untruth. "Mother I" and she laid her hand quietly on her arm, " don't say any more. If you nev- j er meaut me to marry him, you should have j spoken before. It's too late now, for either of us. Wc can't go back. OU that this rniser i able money had never come between us !" For Mary saw it all now. " You've been took in, Mary ; took in by a swindler, as I may say. If I were you, I'd . have more spirit; that I would." Spirit! it was not spirit which popr Mary j wanted ju-t then. She wanted patience, which is harder to find. If the mother had under stood her daughter before, she had unlocked some startling secrets now. Iu the usually calm, sweet face, now flashing crimson, then changing to dead white, there was neither maiden shame nor girli-h fear of her mother's anger, but burning indignation, and fixed de fiance. Mrs. Simpson was not a wise woman, even in worldly sense ; she understood the symptoms, she was frightened, but she was not to be mastered by her own daughter, in her own house. She was undeniably right ; and hke many other persons, when undeniably right, she was wrong. " St| what you will of mo, mother, and I'll bear it if I cau ; but don't dare to slander hi:n .'" " Dare ! hey-day ! I'll dare hi:n to come in side ray doors again, that's what I will." " There shall be uo need, motlu-r ; I can go to him " Both had said a good deal more now than thev had meant to say. Mary's uas one of those quiet answers, which rather increase , wrath thau turn it away Her mother's iu ! dignatiou stifled her words. She could only gasp out something like, " Very well, ma'am I —verv well I" wheu Mary rushed up stairs to ' her room, and sat down in an agony of woud j ed feeling, to which eveu a flo.d of tears bro't no relief. It was ail so sudden, so little de served ! and ail because of a little money !- But though ?he never slept that night, she lay v ry -till and quiet, and never disturbed i her lister. She had no one there who under- I stood her, none to whom to oj>eu her grief.— But her resolution was taken ; and long be- I fore the fauiiiy breakfast-hour she had dressed hastily, pac-ed up quietly a few absolute ne cessarit-s out of hr own wardro'ue, and taking them in her own band, leaving Betsy in wide astonishment s- -he glided by her iu the pas sage, she k-d reached the nearest cab-stand, and asked to be driven so her aunt's at Brix | tOG. A nr.: Martha, she thought, would give her j sympathy at all eveuts, and a little counsel for j the actual present For the future,she meant j to a.-k no one's counsel but George's. If he would take her to him, there she was : never . so wretched and mi-erah!e as now, to be sure. | but never so much needing the love and care wc.ich he had so often prom>ed. Sue was uot ashamed of" ber love for him now ; he had ; been wronged, insulted. She did not consider i it was only the senseless violence of an angry woman ; she would scarcely hive minded rush i ing in to him i;> h.s uncle's presence, aud cry- j ing. " George, here I am : pity me and love me : no one will, because I .ove yoa." She hardly knew how she got into her aunt's i pretty sitting-room. She did not understand j the servant, till she had told her twice that her aaai bad gone away from home. •• Yes, Mis--, go ce to nurse old Mr*. Manson for two or three days, while her niece is away. . Old Mrs. M.insoa"s very bad, I do suppose, i M ss." Well, sue must sst down at least, acd calm herself. She w„a!d write to George at once. Bat what to say? when could sorrow, : shame, and outraged feeling ever shape them-. -e.v-> into toe letters of any discovered alpha- j ~et t Sae wrote. tried to read what sht j had written, aud tore :: i-to fragments. She " REARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION ANY QUARTER." bent her aching head upon her hands, and waited for the troubled thoughts to still them selves. But they would not. Then she rose, and went to the wiudow that looked out into the road. By what a mercifnl ordering it is, that the most trifliug outward object catches the eye at sucli moments, and delivers us for a few instants from ourselves ! A coach was passing towards the great city. It was gen tle asceut, and at the moment a boy with a very small bundle let himself gently down from behind Nut so quickly though, but that the watchful driver caught sight of hiin when be reached the ground, j "Hallo, young chap!" he shouted, "fare's a shilling, if you please 1" "All right, coachman, all right !" and the j i boy-ran off as fast as his legs would carry hitn. ! " All right! I'tn blest if it is though ! think ; you're going to ride all the way irctu Croydon here for nothing, ye yontig rascal ?" i The driver pulled up his horses, and looked after his flying "fare" for a few seconds, as if he had a great mind to get down from his box and give chase ; but as the boy was ac tive and had a fair start, and time was proba lily valuable, he shouted a few good-humored threats after him, and drove on. Mary hud looked alter him too, with such utter astonishment that her own troubles were forgotten. Her eyes had tears in them, to be -ure ; but there was no mistaking the personal , identity cf Master Samuel. She flew to the street door, and could just see his figure in the distance. The coach turned the corner in the ' opposite direction, and then the boy appeared to stop, and to be watching whether any one was coming in pursuit. He began slowly to retrace his steps towards the door where Man was standing, and Mary hardly wai'ed for fiim to be within reasonable distauce to wave her handkerchief iu the hope of attracting his at- • tuition. The movement seemed rather a sus picious one to the fugitive, for he halted and reconnoitred afresh. Mary rau towards him, unbonneted as she was, and at last Samuel recognized a friend. He was hurried into the bouse, aud questioned as well as his sister's agitation would allow her. Samuel had run away from school. " I aint going to black Binns' boots, nor spend al! my money in buying paunches to feed ! his dog. nor to have nuts cracked on my head with Yardv's diet'suary, nor have my tea stirred with a tallow candle, nor be locked up ou a half holiday, I cut away this morning— me and another did." Where was be going to now, Mary a.-ked. " Well, Iw as coming here first,-to sec w hat Aunt Martha'd say, aud then I'm going home to mother. I rode all the way from Croydon here, you see, but I hadn't got a sixpence.— Yardy said he'd skin me if 1 didn't lend him all I had left, so 1 jumped off by here you see without paying ; d : dn't I manage it prime ? What'll mother say, do you think, Mary?" Mary could have tola him that Mrs. Simp son was not likely at present to give him a very warm welcome. But a sudden thought i. k •r. She would take Samuel wit!: her —even.he was a sort of protection, and a fellow-culprit—and go dowu at once to her father at Barton End. She would tell him every thing, and follow his advice faithfully, for he would never urge her to give up George. Samuel was delighted with the proposal ; Mrs Simpsou'- moods were uncertain with all her family, and it was quite a mutter of spec- i ulation with him during his flight, whether j she would ki<s and pity him on his arrival, or send him to bed in preparation for the early coach back to the hated school in the morn ing. And to go down to Barton End !—it I was worth rnuning away for. even if the mas ter flogged him he couldn't thiuk Yardy real ly meant to skin him when he was sent back. The old pony might be living in the park stili, pos-ibly Of course he should like to go to ! Barton End. It was ascertained upon inqn'ry that a coach would pass in the afternoon, which would set down Mary and her brother soon after dark within a mile of the house. Samuel was iu j terror lest the coachman should be his old ac -1 qnaintar.ee of the morning : but even he ' -iio.ii be propitiated, Mary as.-ured him. by an extra shilling. * The boy's company had a! ready done her good. She listened to al! his school troubles, and promised, that if be went ba k. and was a good boy, the absolute power ' 'of B ;.ns and Yardv should be modified. It wa- -'range. Mary thought, that even these boys should begin thus early to torment each ! other; she wondered whether there was any happiness anywhere in t!.is world ! Samuel was ravenously hungry, having ran away with it his breakfa-t. which reminded Mary that she hail done the same : apatite is very in fections. aud she was indebted to his example for not refusing entirely, as -he felt verv much 1 di-posed to do, the extempore iuncbeou which Aunt Martha's maid was quite ashamed of, 1 bat which Master SilpW pronoanced to be "prime." Mary wrote a feisty note to An gu-ta. to say she was gone to her father, and ratlcr lunger ones. Lot nearly so ii.t-.-i igible, to George and to her-aunt, and took her seat ; in tbe coach with a sinking heart. It was a miserable journey this looked for visit to Bar ton End ; she dreaded the very sight of it What w-.aid her poor father say ? Mary had ut-ver given him oue moment's trouble. He had been loud of saying to her when they w ere alone ; she was bis heart's pride and de ght. He would think her right, she was sure : but must she be the* wretched inslru- ' mer.t of breaking up aii his family happiness ? Still, sue never hes.tated or repented for one instant. Sue must be true to George. She would never have suffered herself to think of him ; woald have smothered her first feelings towards him as she mgbt.and either father or mother forbmien their intimacy ; would give him up even now, if he was—what he had been called that morning ; so she stepped out in tbe dark evening oa the strange road where the turn to Barton was, with a weak and tot- j tering step, bat with as strong a heart as when she hod said to ber aotoer, " I caa go j to him." | It was a long, lonely nnia to Bartou End, but a straight read, the coachman had a.J. I and she bad famous company. For Samuel had begged to go outside, aud for the lust few , miles had sat on the box, and heard wondrous i I tales of horses, and taken the coachman into , his confidence as to his ruuuing away, and in t formed him of his prospective ownership of Barton End, and, in short, . talked iu such ; magnificent style as must have abashed Binns A Co. forever, could they but have heard him. But he was very quiet now, —partly from some misgivings as to the meeting with his father, and partly because Mary clasped his hand so tight, and trembled so, and walked so very fast, and then stopped for breath, that Samuel was rather frightened. lie little knew that in the eyes of the world, poor Mary was by , far the greater cnlprit of the two. He be ' gan again at this last moment, us he had done before during the day, to enlist her on his side against the offended powers, j " I say, Polly dear, say a good word for me; dou't let 'em send me baek again straight, as they did one boy, and they kept him on bread and water for a week, and flogged him twice every day, and he wont and drowued himself, aud there's his Ixmes plain in the well now, and his ghost comes up every Saturday night iu the bucket." " Dou't talk such uonsense, Sam," said bis j sister, though she scarcely heard the words. " Well, but Yardy told me so, and he sbow i ed me something white down iu the water, and told me to go and draw the bucket up ou a Saturday night, but I dursn't." Possibly the increasing gloom of the lane had its effect on Samuel's nerves, which were uot of the strongest ; however, they reached the entrance to the house without difficulty or adventure. Mr. Grindle had returned froin a long day's shooting, aud found Mr Simpson awaiting him at a late dinner ; rather moped, if the truth must be told, and longing to beat home at tea with his family. The lawyer's sporting friend had declined to stay and dine with them and had driven back to town : so the two gentlemen again sut down tete-a-tele, Mr. Grin dle doing the honors Mr. Simpsou found his position rather embarrassing ; he was neither master nor guest. lie was driuking the agent's wine, kept under private lock and key iu pre j paration for his periodical visits, eating the salmon brought down in ice iu his dog cart.— He would not have ventured himself to give an order in the house for the world. Mr. Grindle, it is true, referred to him continually, most distinctly and pointedly, as " poor Mr. John's cousiu but he felt that the sour-louk ing old servant would, at a word from that gentleman, have kicked him out of the front door, and, as he fancied, with pleasure It was quite true—-so he would ; aud Mr. Grin dle after him, and Mr. John Simpson, had he had the chance, after them both, or any other visitor by right or by invitation, w ho interfered with his own personal ease and quiet ; but to poor Mr. Joseph it seemed that the sour looks were levelled specially at him It might be that botli gentlemen were tired, or that they did not find each other's conver sation very agreeable, or that, as the lawyer observed, there was something sleepy in the air ; for. after a very languid attempt at con ver.-atiou, they forgot to pass tbe liottle, ar.d fell fast asleep in their respective easy-chairs. They were roused by a startling peal from the hall bell (nervous bauds always pnll hard) j echoing loudly through the almost empty house " Rather late for a visitor," said Mr. Grin dle ; " hope none of mv clieuts have followed me down here." The ball door was opened, there was a pre liminary negotiation audible in the passage, ' and then the sour visaged domestic u-hered iu " Mi.-s Simpsou." Mr Grindie looked a-:on isbed, as he rose and bowed. Mr. Simpson jumped up in alarm. " Any thing the matter at home. Mary ? 'said the father,ia a trembling j voice. She forgot Mr. Grindie ; perhaps never saw him. She rushed forward, and fell on her knees with one loud ob at her father's feet. Perbajw Mr Grindle could not, strictly speaking, have been called a geutiemau. He was a man, at all events, which :> sometimes just as good. He was a.-lonbhed, he was very pardonably curious, but he wa.ked straight , out of the room. It was a case, a- he woulu have phrased it, quite out of his line of busi j ness. He walked straight out, rather in a hurry, and the pa-sage was rather dark. There he stumbled over a boy. " Who are you V said he, shaking him rather roaghly, byway | giving vent to his agitated feelings—" who the d-uce are you ?" " Dou't," said a pleading voice—" don t : I'm Sim." '• Situ who ?" " Sam Smip-on." *' Cur.-e it," said the lawyer, " here's tne whole family come." I " And w hat on earth are you doing here : boy, skulking in the pts-ag- 1 ? If you want to see your father, why don't you go to him ?" " Ob I 'cause I've ran away ; and she's gone to tell him about Binns." " Ran awav ? where from ? and why did you run here ? and whose Binns V Bat if there had been any hope, in his then j state of agitation, of Samuel's giving intelli gible answers to this sharp fire of questions, I be was at all events spared the trial, for at that moment the hall again, as loud ly as before. *' Go it," said Mr. Grindle, with a sort of sneering defiance ; " nng louder" Samuel had not the slightest doubt that tbe Pnilistines were upon him—that the whole staff of Liudlev House, professors of all bran ches, native Parisians and Germans, drawing writing, fencing and cali-thenic cia-Nr- most of whom he bad never seen, bet they looked terrible in tbe prospectus, with Binns aud Vardy probably as volunteers, were baying oo his track, aud that he was to be dragged back to increased torture*. " Let go my coat tails, sir." Sam had ta-fea ed on aim :a hiv agony. " Wu;' the matter with tie ooy ? doa't oowi in tea: way, go to jour father, d'je hear ?—Sorry to keep joa | wa.ting, I'm sure," said the lawyer, again ad ' drcaJug tbe door with a bitter politeness ; for VOL. XX. —NO. 22. 1 either the old servant was slow, or the new v visitor impatient, and there was another peal s along the passages. Sam was under the ball > table now. The old servaut came across the - hall, looking sourer than ever. f '* More company, Zachary," said Mr. Grin t die ; " are yonr beds all aired !" Zuchary'a s face might have expressed disgust, but that was its usual expression, and he was too much > afraid of the lawyer to reply, or, perhaps, too , intensely indignant. > He opened the door, however, and a tall r young man inquired for Mr. Joseph Simpson. I " Your name, sir, if you please," said ; Zachary. It must have been a great satisfac ' tion to him to answer by a counter-qnestiou, for the gentleman was evidently impatient. i i Mr. Harrison." Zachary vouchsafed no verbal answer, but allowed him to walk in.— George caught sight of Mr. Grindle as he was retreatiug, and addressed his next questiou to ; | him. " I l>eg your pardon, sir, but you no doubt can tell me—is Mary—is Miss Simpson here with her father ? " " Well," said the lawyer, after taking a rapid survey of his questioner, which appeared satisfactory, for there was something less of irritation in his tone, " I think I may say she is. Has she run away ?" " Sir I" said George, firing np. " Oh ! no offence, I beseech you ; but really the family movements are rather puzzling.—•> You see this young gentleman—ch ! what's become of him now V Reassured by George Harrison's well known voice, Samuel took courage to emerge from under the table. George looked, if possible, more puzzled than Mr. Grindle " Well," said the latter, iu a tone that implied he gave the thing np altogether—" I think I'll go to bed—give me a candle. Zachary. You'll find Mr. Simpson iu there," Mary had laid all her griefs before her fath er. Her mother's violence was not so over whelming to him as it had been to her. He was more really vexed, though he did not say so, at Mary's imprudent step than at bis wife's j foolish language ; a few hasty words more or less would have made very little impression up on good humored Mr. Simpson. But he was uot in love, iiad not heard blasphemy spoken against hi.-> idol, as poor Mary had. lie sooth ed and comforted her as well as he could,; hough he was sadly at a loss for words ; it would all come right by and by. At all events Mary and George had his consent, aud they must be patient ; but he ended by wishing with her that cousiu John's property had gone some where else. "We wasn't rich Mary, but we was very comfortable as we was." "Oh yes, dear lather, oh yes 1" and Mary began to sob again, though the teafs were not so bitter ; when she started at the sound of a voice aud a step in the hall, and grsw as pale again as marble. Wbv was it, that when George entered the room, she turned from him and hid her face ou her father's shoQider, in stead of flying into his arms for shelter as she had longed to do a few hours ago! He had left town the instant he received her note—so hurried and incoherent that he scarcely gathered tnore from it than that she was in trouble, and that he should find her with her father at Barton End. Had she asked him to come to her ?—she could not re member now : had she done wrong ? -she be gan to fear it now. Mr. Simpson held out his hand at once, with the old cordial greeting, " George, my boy !*' Indeed, he was delight ed to see hitn, and would have transferred bis his daughter at o.ice to one who was probably more at home, or at least had more moieni experience, in such scenes than himself; but Mary clung close, and never LokeJ up or I spoke. Again the hall bell rang : not so loud, this time : bat Harrison had left the dining-room doer o;ew, and Sam* once more in a state of j alarm, rushed in to his bewildered parent, and excla med, " Oh ! father, father 1 here's a car riage drove up !*' " 111 bet a shilling," s lid Mr Simpsos, *' it's your mother. Polly ! Never mind, my girl,cheer up, cheer up." Mary locked up, and put her hand in George's. Nobody thought of Sam : but he felt great comfort at the suggestion Chains and lolts were withdrawn, amidst audi' Se muttering- frotn Zachary. It was not a lady's voice ; it was cot Mrs. for S lomel na led out to see. and came back look ing iu< re -cared than ev<-r Oid Zicfary look ed into the room, with a hideous smile, and j announced very dittinc'lv, MR. J ns SnrrsoN. A -to g. dark comolexioned. but good hu j mo-- 1 : k .g man walked full into 'hemiddlo of the room, and bowed comprehensively to all the t-arrv with something of foreign grace, at least without Enp i-h awkwardness. lie i looked as little alarm,tig as a man of six feet with a good tj-*al of hair ahoot htm.coald well ! do ; but it may IK* supposed that the company j were not a little startled. Certainly f*w gen ! i'-raeii wvre so received in their own hoa*c M try telt inclined to v e ttu, but only broke i t'o a low, hysterical I* jgh. He re* mcd U* j enjey their intense asto ii-hment. "Ha ! Ha !" he burst out at last, for no i one else spoke.—" quite a family party, I con : elude. Come. I'll tell yon what—l'm glad to | see you all ; I've not seen a soul of my ova nam >or k f>r fifteen years—don't look strange at me be-aase I'm cooie hom** ~ **J hn ! " -aid his coa-in, finding voice at hs*—-John ! I'm heartiiy g'ad to s e you— welcome home !" T c other looked at h,® for * moment— they were keener eyes than Mr Joseph Slmp scc'-v "Jo?," said h-—there was no mistaking the honest face—•• Joe I i*l>v® it!"' aci he dashed h; hand into hU comma's aud ta-aed h head &-.de for a moment —perhaps to !<vk at Sam. " I'm very wriy. Joe . aot sorry I'm thve, yo,t kaow. that cau't l*s heljjed . bat sorry you've here I cai.ed it *r.a dleV, a.Ki tiey mid © ala boot it Ne~r mind, Joe ; the o'J pa e aha'L He • ji®e for voa ..! Tours aai .1 Erg ■e me fa: cam i iug back."