room and the play-ground, which made me rebel against the judgment of the world-our world; but a word from him, a smile, or a slap on the shoulder, would again make me content to be his fides Achates, his man Friday, or anything, so that I were with him and Rose. Of course he was her favourite; his impulsiveness, his mirth, the wild spirit with which he dashed and bounded onwards, climbing trees for the mere sake of climbing, leaping across brooks, to leap back again, jumping up for a flower she fancied, or springing after a squirrel, always made him the chief of our parties. It sometimes flashed upon me, that I thought more for Rose, when absent, did more in gathering up treasures, in reading stories and learning verses to repeat to her; yet some way his services had always a greater charm, and she would spring away from listening to some legend I had gathered for her, at a shout, or a call, or a laugh from hiin. Still there was no envy or rivalry. We were happy together, happy in our triple alliance.

One fine afternoon towards the end of August we all accompanied the Squire in one of his strolls. The first of September was near, and he was taking out some young dogs to try them in a field near the park. They were the progeny of old Grouse. That patriarch, indeed, rejoiced in as numerous an offspring as any caliph or Eastern sultan. There was no chance of the paternal name or virtues dying out from want of representatives. The pepper-and-mustard style of nomenclature would have been necessary to designate all the branches of the stock. In every kennel in the county was a Grouse. These were the youngest born, and were said to take very much after the father, though, of course, falling far short of his perfection. The old dog moved amid them with a sort of pride and condescension, repressing by his grave deportment all familiarities and excesses, yet showing a mild forbearance for the exuberances of youth. No elder in the presence of juveniles-no tutor before his pupils-could have been more exact, more precise, than he was, the moment we entered the stubble or

arrish. His every movement, his every attitude, was most perfect and pointer-like. All his casts and turns were made with a most exemplary correctness. Neither tail nor head was a shade out of its bearing. True and steady he moves. Ah! he will show those young dogs what a pointer should be. Hush! the Squire's finger is uplifted. He is standing firm as a rock; the tail straight and stiff; the body motionless; the forefoot lifted; the head turned'; the eye fixed and still-a sculptor might take that posture. The shades of departed pointers might look on it with pride. The critics of all the tribes and families of the race could see no fault in it. It was a challenge and an example. At the same instant the three young dogs, with the impulse of instinct, all backed the point, though trembling and quivering with excitement. Beautiful, by Jove!" muttered the Squire, with bated breath. "Oh, how pretty!" cried Rose. A look and a gesture checked even her voice. We were on professional ground now-beyond the limits of toleration. Presently a young Grouse

the son of promise, too-gives a low whine, and creeps forward. This is an error of youth, and may be excused. Again he creeps on. This, even, may be overlooked, as the indiscretion of inexperience. But now he is growing more and more restless

un

moves on and on. This is not to be borne; no dog of character can allow his dignity to be thus compromised. So old Grouse quietly gives up his point, and turns indignantly away, throwing from his shoulders the responsibility of such an pointer-like act. Two hours after, he is discovered standing by himself at a solitary bird, as though he had found some satisfaction and relief in this exercise of character. When he turned, all the young dogs rushed in -the birds rose-and Quamino, who had looked on the whole proceeding with great interest, excited by the movement and the whirring of the wings, sprang after the covey with open mouth and outstretched hands. This escapade saved the blood of the Grouse race from the indignity of the lash, and was nearly giving the Grenfell property the benefit of a minority.

"Ah! how was that, then? Come, give us the story."

"Why, you know Massa Higgins in Barbadoes; him hab next station to us. Well, him hab turkey; and dis turkey come to roost tree night on our fence, so me knock him over, and tak him for de rent."

"By Jove, Quamino, I hope you won't be trying your hand on those in the Lady's Meadow, or my Christmas dinner will come short "

"No, saar. Me hab 'spect for property. Dey no commit trespass." Our walk homeward led us through a woodland path. The pointers had been taken back, and Domingo alone was following us. On a sudden he rushed forward towards a bed of briers at the foot of a tree, and then started back with a sharp yell and a look of fear. At the same moment we saw the heads and forked tongues of two adders reared above the brushwood. Gerald, with his usual impulse, rushed on them, striking right and left; I followed, crushing the heads of both with well-aimed blows of a stick; yet it was Gerald who killed the adders that stung poor Domingo. An exclamation from Rose attracted our attention towards the dog; his head had swollen to a great size; his eyes were half closed, and he seemed almost stupified. This was a great dilemma, for the elders had left us, and we knew not what to do. Luckily an old woodman came to our relief, and applied what he supposed an effectual remedy, by tying the bark, peeled off a young ash, round the neck, near the swelling, advising us, on getting home, to rub the part with oil, and send for old Biddy to charm it. Then," added he, "at sundown, when them varmints die, the dog will be all right,

or he will die." The thought of the possibility of her old guard's death set Rose a-crying; but we set ourselves manfully to work-half dragged, half led Domingo home. The remedy of the oil was at once applied, and a hint of the charm set Quamino off for old Biddy, who was supposed to possess the power of healing all scalds and burns, and extracting venom from wounds. Presently he was heard ushering her in with much ceremony and deference, for in his heart he had a great awe of the old crone, who had the reputation of being a witch as well as charmer.

"Come in, Biddy; dis de dog. Here, ole fella," addressing Domingo, "here de great Obee woman come to cure him. She say, 'Go out, snak,' and him go."

Biddy was the very spirit of witchdom. The weird sisters of Macbeth were never better got up for the part. The withered, begrimed skin, the wrinkled face, the sharp features, the quick cunning grey eye, the dirty white hair hanging in elf-locks, the red cloak, the crook stick, were all according to established characteristics. The cringing, whining, fawning voice and manner, were not so orthodox. The antecedents of her life, as they were known and told, all favoured her present reputation. She had been a camp-follower in the Peninsular War; had witnessed the death of two successive husbands had seen many a battle-field; and boasted of having once saved the colours of the regiment, by sewing them under her petticoats. It was said, too, that the old withered form, once gaunt and bony, had often been seen prowling amid the heaps of dead and wounded on the night after a battle, and that the skinny hand, as it passed over their faces and down their limbs, struck more dread into the hearts of bleeding, maimed, dying soldiers, than the bayonets or swords of the foe. She came in curtsying, and bowing, and uttering blessings on the house, which sounded in her tones like maledictions. Then, after swallowing a glass of gin, and attempting to force caresses Gerald, whose father she declared that she had nursed, she sat down

on

by the dog, took his head in her lap, mumbling some words, and making some signs as she passed her hand over the bitten parts; and when she rose and shuffled rather hurriedly away, it struck me that I saw something drop from her, and immediately afterwards the dog's nose seemed attracted towards it. I stooped down, and picked up what seemed a roll of meat. On showing it to Quamino, his eyes started out from his head, and his teeth chattered as he exclaimed

"Dat cussed ole tief-dat tarned ole witch-she try to poison de dog. Me must show dis to massa."

The old pallor came back on Trevenna's face as he saw the meat, and heard the story. The attempt to poison the dog roused the suspicion that some scheme of violence and plunder was meditated towards his house, and his mind could associate only one man with such a deed. 'Twas too late to consult the Squire. He dared not seek other aid. So that night he kept silent lonely watch. The dog, strangely enough,

had begun to revive soon after sunset-had roused and shaken himself, and taken his old post by Rose's bed. He, the father-father of one so dear, and one so dreaded-sat by the lone hearth with a solitary light, keeping such ward as a man would keep who felt that each coming hour, each coming minute, might bring him in deadly contact with his own flesh and blood; that in self-defence, or in defence of those dearer to him, his hand might be raised against his own son. He sat unarmed and alone. None but he might see, none but he might meet the face which might intrude on the watches of that night. The beating heart told the minutes as they passed away; as each hour was chimed, the dread gathered thicker and darker o'er his soul. The night wore on slowly and stilly, and the morn broke at last. With the morn came Rosé -Rose, with her twining arms, her soft kisses, her merry laugh, and her play, chasing away the darkness which had brooded o'er that dread watch.

On the road leading from Trevenna's house to Penhaddoc Park, there was a bypath branching off to the right. It was a muddy, grassgrown lane, a favourite abode of toads, and was darkened by overhanging bushes. At the bottom it was crossed by a dull, sluggish, gutter-like stream; and in a corner on the other side, where hemlock, and mallow, and brier grew, rank and matted, stood a mud hut, rudely thatched, with one or two small narrow windows oddly placed at some height from the ground. In front there was a stagnant pool, in which squattered a brood of half-starved ducks. This was the home of Biddy, the witch. On one side of the door was a cage, inhabited by an old halfbald raven; and on the other lay a large flat stone, underneath which was supposed to be kept an old toad, to assist her in her incantations. Down this lane, on the night after Domingo was bitten by the snake, walked the Squire and Trevenna,

moving slowly, and stopping at intervals in close and serious talk.

"Yes, Trevenna," said the Squire, enforcing some previous argument, "I am convinced that this old hag must know something of the man you seek, and that her attempt to poison the dog must have been made at his instigation. Her hut has often been a sort of mumper's inn, a refuge for tramps and vagabonds. Depend upon it, he is here. We will easily unearth him, if you have the courage to meet him, and, once for all, face the difficulty."

For a while Trevenna stood communing with himself, his lips moving as though he were asking for other and better aid than the strength of his own heart. Then bracing himself up to the resolve, he said, "Be it so; I will stand the trial. I mustI will see him; will try whether there be any hope of reclaim, any means of rescue for him. It is my part to forbear, my part to offer atonement for my own sin. At any

rate, it may be that this dread, which is overshadowing my life, which is threatening others, may be dispelled if met fairly and boldly."

"That's right. Meet it like a man. Half the difficulties in the world disappear before a brave open front. I will manage old Biddy. Do you enter the house. If he be there, as I think is almost certain, your own heart will tell you what to say, what to do. That is not for me to advise. God help thee, friend. I know it will be a sore, hard trial."

At that moment they came in view of the hut. All was quiet. There was nought stirring. A knock at the door produced a grumbling grunting interjection from Biddy; and then, after a little delay, she appeared herself. The sight of her visitors startled and alarmed her at first; but she soon resumed her old manner, and began to fawn and whine round the Squire.

"Oh, blessings on his dear face! Is he come to see his old Biddy, that nursed and suckled un?" snivelled out the old crone, trying to kiss the Squire's hand. "Doesn't she love un better than her own children, the dear?"

This might easily have been the case without the Squire's suffering from excess of affection, as she was said to have sold one child, and driven another out of doors, and to have brought up her family generally in such loving and happy nurture, that the eldest son was now a sojourner in the colonies, and the rest scattered as vagabonds over the kingdom, gathering experiences of all the different jails, lock-ups, and cadgers' haunts.

"Well, well, Biddy, that will do," said the Squire, after successively freeing his hand, button, and coattail from her grasp. "Now we want to talk upon a little business. Mr Trevenna here wishes to give you a little compliment for curing his dog."

Ah, poor dumb cretur! Did poor old Biddy's charm save him?" she continued, in the same whining tone. "Any trifle will be welcome. "Tisn't much Biddy wants-a little snuff, or a little of the comfort, dear," she added, in a whisper.

66

Ay, ay, Biddy, we will take care of that; but we want to know

"Her dear boy wouldn't think his old Biddy would go to hurt the dog -would he? she that loves all the animals, poor things. Why should she want to harm un?"

"Well, Biddy, you know that Mr Trevenna's house was broken into," said the Squire sternly," and that the dog seized a man in the passage, and nearly killed him; and 'tis rather odd, so soon after that, some one should be trying to make away with the animal. We want to see that man, Biddy, and we must see him. You know where and who he is. I shouldn't like to bring the constables down on my old nurse, or to have her brought up for conniving with burglars; but what can I do if it comes before the bench?"

This last hint seemed to take great effect, and to rouse her from the crooning groaning state into which she had fallen when the Squire began.

"Oh, what can old Biddy know about it? How can she tell what every poor boy, who comes to lay down on her straw, is doing? Sure he seems harmless enough; and if he wants to have his rights, who can blame un?"

"He is here, then; that's all we want to know. No harm shall come to him."

The hag spoke not, but looked assent, with her cunning grey eyes. The Squire nodded to Trevenna. He stood a moment or two to collect courage, then lifted the latch and entered.

An hour passed away, and still the door was closed. Another was half spent, when Trevenna came out, with the tried look of one who had gone through much in short space; yet there was lightsomeness of spirit about the whole man, which told that relief had come out of suffering.

Silently the Squire took his arm, and they walked on for a while without speaking.

For

"Yes, Grenfell, you were right," he said at last "right in advising me to face my trial. Not for all the wealth I once sought so eagerly, would I pay back the peace that this last hour has given me. There has been much of agony in this meeting -old wounds have been ripped open -the ashes of old memories raked up. There have been recriminations, explanations, revelations, reconciliation, and at last there is peace, if not love, betwixt me and my son. Oh God! what a pang it was, as I entered that hut, to see the poor, ragged, vagrant-looking being, who lay huddled on the straw in a corner, haggard, world- worn, scarred with wounds in the strife of life, vengeful with despair and hatred. years he had been tossed and buffeted -cast hither and thither-been ever stranded or wrecked; had tried the land, the sea, the mines, the prairies; had failed and suffered everywhere. At last chance threw him on the English shore-despair led him to seek me out the entry into my house was more with the object of discover ing whether any children had succeeded to what he conceived his rights, and of seeing in what state and how I lived, rather than with an intent of violence or plunder, when the dog rushed upon him, and, with the instinct of old hatred, nearly throttled him. What he might afterwards have meditated, goaded on by despair, want, revenge, and the suggestions

of that infernal hag, my soul shudders to think. Thank God, by your counsel that has been averted. At first he repelled all commune with me, rejected all overtures, and stood on his old war with the world. But my heart was firm in its resolve, and I persevered, until, at last, he softened and melted, and we sat side by side. All was to be forgotten and forgiven; from the dark past and the clouded present we went on into a future. There was yet to be the promise of a new life before him. Sent forth by me, with new hopes and under new auspices, he was to start afresh, and make another advance in the battle of life. To-night I write to town, asking a confidential agent to meet me here, and arrange for my son's being introduced into a new course in one of our colonies-Canada or Australia. A week hence, when all is settled, we are to meet at the Cross Keys Inn, on the other side of the river from Panhaddoc Ford. Rose shall see and know him ere he leaves. Thus all looks well and fair. A few years more-a few years of earnest work, of reputable career, and we may meet once more as father and son should meet."

The Squire would say nought to gloom this hopeful prospect, though it looked not so bright or promising in his eye, but pressed his friend's hand with kindly sympathy as they parted at the park-gate.

A week had passed, and the eventful morn had arrived. All the necessary arrangements had been fairly made, and Trevenna set forth for the interview. Quamino was driving him in a gig. The day was fair and bright. As they crossed the bridge, Trevenna saw that Domingo was following them, and it struck him that the animosity betwixt him and his son might lead to unpleasantness, and they stopped to drive him back. The dog, as dogs always do, obeyed the dismissal reluctantly-went partly back-then stopped-then, when unobserved, crept on again. This delayed them on the bridge until they

saw people on the other side making signs to them to come on. All eyes were fixed on the hills towards the north, where the river had its source. O'er them the clouds were banked in a dark heavy mass, which seemed, again and again, to burst with great masses of water. It was a waterspout which had fallen at the very head of the stream, and was swelling its gentle current to the rush and force of a cataract. Presently was heard a deep boom, like the sweep of a mighty wind

then a roar deep and hoarse as the beating of the surge against the seashore-then the huge body of swelling waters was seen rolling, flooding