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certainly kill herself, and Patty, turning to her suddenly, besought her to invite the pretty lady to The Delf until her own house should be at least tolerably habitable.

"Why," said my Mother, "if thy Father approves, Patty, I see nothing against it. There is the blue room," she went on meditatively, "always ready, thou knows-the bed well aired and that, and I am sure I should be sorry for our new neighbor to do herself a mischief by lying at that mouldy smelling place for a week to come. Dear heart, to think on't," cried she, her kind face all troubled, "to think of any young woman doing such a thing! What do you say, Forshaw? Shall Patty have her way?"

"Nay, my dear," returned he, "does not our Patty always have her way in this house? She is fair marred. But ask the lady by all means 'tis but neighborly when all's said and done."

Now I might have thought of this plan myself had not my brain been always somewhat slow, and though the suggestion was Patty's, and I made it a rule to discourage Patty's notions, thus counteracting as far as might be the excessive fondness of my Parents -for I vow my Mother spoiled the wench as much as her Father-my heart leaped up within me at the project. Dorothy Ullathorne actually under our own roof! To see her dailyto converse with her-to do her many slight services it might be was not this a prospect?

The next day happened to be market day, and my Mother persuaded Mr. Forshaw to let her ride behind him to Upton.

"For," said she, "I can then speak to Mrs. Ullathorne myself. "Twill be more seemly, and more hospitable than to send a message through our Luke here; and if she thinks fit to accept our invitation, my dear, then I can ride home with our Luke, and Mrs. Ulla

thorne can ride back with you. Luke can take a spare pillion."

My Father agreed, and we all set off betimes; my Mother looking very comely in her new cloth hood and her puce silk dress, her kind soft face all lit up with anticipation.

Nothing would serve me but I must accompany her when she waited upon Mrs. Ullathorne-my Father, having business to transact, set her down outside the Crown-'twere best for me, I said, to make them known to each other, or else the lady would not know what to think of so early a visit.

But when we were ushered into the room my heart failed me, for there sat Dorothy by the window with an expression of extraordinary sadness, and the tears standing on her cheeks.

Then what must my Mother do but pull away her arm from mine, and run across the room to the pretty desolate young creature, and forthwith embrace her.

"Forgive me, my dear," said she. "I cannot bear to see you in such grief; and though we are at present strangers, I hope we may shortly become dear friends. For you are to be our neighbor, I hear, and the distance between the two houses is very short, and they say you have no Mother, my love," she went on, all in the same breath; "I'm sure I feel with all my heart for any one in such a plight, and I hope when you come to know me better you may turn to me sometimes when your heart is heavy, for, indeed, I am sure I shall love you very much."

Now, while my Mother was speaking, she was fondling Mrs. Dorothy's hands and kissing her cheek; and she had drawn her clean white handkerchief from her pocket and had gently wiped away the girl's tears; and all the time her face wore what I needs must call the Mother-look, for want of a better term. We have all seen such a look in the eyes of a good woman-aye,

many a time have I seen it even in the eyes of a poor beast when its little ones mestle by its side; 'tis of all things in Nature, I think, the most tender and the most beautiful. Mrs. Ullathorne could not hold out against it; her pride and reserve melted away, and she threw her arms about my Mother's neck and sobbed on her gentle bosom.

Then seeing that I had nothing to do in that place I stole away, leaving them to each other; but all that morning I was sore impatient for the moment when I might question my Mother as to what subsequently passed between them. Yet, when she was at length seated behind me on her pillion-Mrs. Ullathorne having gone on before us with my Father-she had not much information to give me; the lass wept for a long time, she said, and kissed her back when she embraced her, but she had not spoken much.

"And yet I am sure she is good," broke out my Mother, after a pause, during which I had been cogitating over the mystery that seemed to envelop the newcomer.

"Good!" cried I with a start. "Of course she is good. What else should she be?"

"I am only thinking," pursued my Mother, half-shame-facedly, "of a strange thing she said to me. I was making excuses, you must know, for our plain way of living at The Delf, and hoping it would not be displeasing to her, who must be so unaccustomed to the like. 'For,' said I, ''tis easy seen that you are a gentlewoman, whereas we are but honest yeomanfolk.' And then, my dear, she flung her arms about me again and hid her face in my bosom, and cried that if I did but know who she was and what she was I would see that the condescension was on my side, and that I would perhaps have naught to say to her."

"Why, what folly!" I interrupted quickly.

"The very thing I said, my dear! Said I, 'One has but to look in your face to see your character.' 'Oh, as for that,' cried she, 'I am not more wicked than my neighbors.' And then she jerked her head off my shoulder, but in a moment laid it down again— 'I am not wicked,' says she, 'dear Madam, believe me, I am not wicked.'" "And neither is she!" I exclaimed vehemently.

"No indeed," said my Mother; "but I wonder what she can have meant, lad."

I wondered too, but did not say so, and we rode on almost in silence till we came to our own gate.

My Father had no doubt made great speed, for there stood Mrs. Ullathorne by the horseblock, and little Patty clinging to her as if they were already the best of friends; Patty, as usual, all curls and dimples, and Dorothy with a brighter face than I had ever seen her

wear.

"La!" said my Mother, craning upwards to peep over my shoulder, "don't they make a pretty pair? A Rose and a Lily."

My Mother was a bit sentimental, and loved such a comparison.

"A Lily of the Valley then!" said I to humor her. I was never one for making out such conceits, yet when the word escaped me I could not but think it apt. Patty might very well be called a Lily of the Valley; there were the little bells, you know, to signify merriment, and the sharp sweetness, yet for all that never a thorn, whereas Mrs. Dorothy, Queen of Maidens, as the Rose is Queen of Flowers, would wound sorely all who sought to come too nigh.

Meanwhile Chestnut had been pacing soberly across the grass plot and now ranged himself of his own accord to let my Mother dismount, whereat she pulled me by the sleeve.

"Well, Luke, how long art thou going to sit there staring, instead of giving me a hand down?"

I was off my saddle in a trice, and my Mother, after a cautious descent, turned to Mrs. Ullathorne and bade her welcome very prettily. Patty ran to me, as I was leading away Chestnut, to whisper in my ear:

"Oh, Luke, I love her! I love her! Eh, she is bonny, and kind too. She is fain to be here, she says, and she was well pleased with her chamber, which, indeed, I made as pretty as I could. I found some daffodils nearly out, at the corner of the kitchen wall, and I popped them into hot water and put them in a vase on the table, and they are showing yellow already."

"And I picked some vi'lets," chimed in Johnny, who had overtaken us, "and Sister Patty put them in a cup before her seeming glass. And the lady has seen my pigeons, Luke, and says they are bonny."

All round, indeed, Mrs. Ullathorne had, it appeared, won golden opinions. Even old Stumpy, our stableman, a surly old fellow as a rule, found a word to praise her.

"A bonny lass, Mester Luke!" said he. "As bonny a lass as ever come into this place. I reckon 'twould be a shame to let her go out again. You'd best see and keep her, Mester Luke."

I carried away my saddle with a red face, and made believe not to hear him.

""Twould be a gradely match," went on Stumpy, "ah, sure it would! A gradely match and a bonny bride!"

And then I bade him sharply hold his tongue and rub down Chestnut well, though I generally performed that office myself; but these words of his had set my head awhirl, and I went swaggering indoors, feeling that I must needs be a great man since Stumpy thought me fit to be Mrs. Ullathorne's bridegroom.

Nothing of any moment happened during the next few days. Dorothy seemed at ease in our midst, and was very gentle and gracious to us all; she made little ado about our homely manner of living, and for a time showed no trace of the haughtiness which I had thought to detect in her.

But one day she suddenly flashed out in a way that took us all by surprise.

She had behaved very prettily towards my Father from the first, treating him, indeed, with a kind of affectionate respect which called forth our admiration; she asked his advice on many points connected with the management of her new property, and though she herself displayed a wisdom and knowledge which astonished him, she was most ready to listen to his counsels.

Well, it chanced that she informed my Father on this particular day that she wished to buy a horse, and having heard that he had several to dispose of, proceeded very civilly to inquire if he would give her leave to select one from his stock.

"With the greatest pleasure," cried he. "I know that the horse you will buy will have a good home, Mrs. Dorothy, and I love these beasts of mine as if they were children. There is Fleetfoot-own brother to Chestnut, Luke's horse that ye rid once, I believe I reckon he'd suit you well enough if you gave him plenty of work otherwise he might be a bit too mettlesome for ye."

"I don't mind how mettlesome he is," returned she eagerly, "so that he go fast enough to please me; and I fancy he will since you call him Fleetfoot. I must have a swift horse."

"Why," exclaimed my Father with a laugh, "are ye going to take to the road, Madam; d'ye want to be a female highwayman? I have heard of such things," he went on, in high glee at his

own jest. "Why there was one of 'em hanged not so many year ago."

'Twas but a clumsy joke, and the good man meant no harm, but Mrs. Dorothy wheeled round upon him with her eyes blazing in her head.

"Do you meant to insult me, Sir?" cried she, stammering and choking over the words so that they were scarcely intelligible. "Have you the grossness to speak thus to me under your own roof?"

My Father fairly gaped, so much taken aback was he; my Mother fell back in her chair dumbfounded; I felt my cheeks flame, but durst not offer a word. But before we could have done more than gasp once or twice our little Patty must needs pop out of her chair, and stamp on the floor and fall into as pretty a fury as Mrs. Ullathorne herself.

"And how dare you, Madam," cried she, with her eyes sparkling as bright as Mrs. Ullathorne's own, and her little fist clenched, "how dare you speak thus to my kind good Father, who could not say an ill word a-purpose if 'twas to save his life? He meant but to jest, and you know it well; and I am The London Times.

sure, Madam, you have had nothing but kindness under this roof, and we all loved you, and-and-"

Here Patty's eloquence was suddenly cut short by an indignant sob.

"Hold your tongue, Patty," said I angrily, and-"Oh fie, child," faltered my Mother; but Mrs. Ullathorne ran across the room and took her in her arms.

"She is right! She is quite right!" she cried. "Oh, Patty, I love you for taking your father's part! I love you a thousand times better than I did before. It is I who am wicked and unmannerly-and, I beg your pardon, Sir," she added, turning to my Father with so sweet a penitence that he would have been hard indeed not to have forgiven her on the spot. As it was, being the kindest man in the world, he desired her heartily to think no more of the matter, and even made bold to kiss her cheek in token of goodwill.

And so the storm blew over, and he and she were better friends than before, but I for my part felt less at ease in her society, and could not conquer a certain anxiety lest, all unconsciously, our rough ways might give her offence.

(To be continued.)

COLONIAL MEMORIES: IV. RODRIGUES.

BY LADY BROOME,

"The deaf, cold official Ear" used to be a favorite phrase in the Crown Colonies in my day, and referred, of course, to the Ear of Downing Street; but even then it seemed to me a very undeserved reproach, for, so far as my own experience went, or rather the experience of my dear husband, it was only necessary to bring a grievance small or large before that much-abused department for at least an attempt to be made to remedy it directly.

Take the case of Rodrigues as an example. It had been for many years a "most distressful" dépendance of Mauritius. Once upon a time-early in the nineteenth century-it was a favorite sanatorium of the East Indian squadron, and ships were constantly calling there to leave sick or wounded sailors and take away the convalescents. For, until 1814 brought peace and the Treaty of Paris, a good deal of fighting went on in that part of the Indian

Ocean, Bourbon and L'Ile de France being the prizes of the victor.

At

Apropos of those same prizes, I have always heard that L'Ile de France, as Mauritius used to be called in those days, was only captured by stratagem, and that its protecting circle of reefs, quite as effectual as a chain of torpedoes, had kept the British frigates cruising outside for many a weary day. There was no reliable chart, and, naturally, no pilot was forthcoming. last, very early one morning, a pirogue was sighted, and a smart man-of-war's boat intercepted it before the shelter of the coral girdle could be gained. Its solitary occupant was a young fisherman, who was directly taken to the admiral's ship, and, with great difficulty and with the aid of what was to him an enormous bribe, persuaded to guide the landing party's boats through difficult passages to a suitable and unexpected landing-place. The choice lay between that and death, and the lad chose life and wealth. But I was assured that from that day to this the poor man and his descendants had been regarded as outcasts, with whom no one in the conquered island would have any dealings.

Then, as to Bourbon, the story goes that it was given back to the French by that same Treaty of Paris owing to a mistaken idea at our own Colonial Office that it was a West Indian Island, instead of lying only a hundred miles south of Mauritus. So ever since 1814 poor little Rodrigues has been deserted by her naval visitors, and Port Mathurin had welcomed only two men-of-war in the sixty-five years which had passed before our visit.

The real bad times, however, set in with the abolition of slavery, for it is the sort of climate where one need not work, or only work very little, to live. The sugar and coffee estates soon fell out of cultivation, as did the cotton and even the vanilla bean, which

grows so easily, and the island seems to have come in for more than its fair share of hurricanes. Then the want of communication and a market for exports completed the tale of its trouble; and when an unusually dry season killed the rice crops, something very like a famine set in. This had happened several times before our day, and relief for the moment had, of course, been sent.

But when, one day in the middle of the hurricane season of 1881, a wretched little open boat struggled across the 350 miles of Indian Ocean. bringing the island pilot and another sailor with a piteous tale of the hunger and distress which prevailed in Rodrigues, the Lieutenant-Governor of Mauritius felt that nothing but a personal visit and inquiry into the cause of the constantly recurring evil would satisfy his Government. So an application was made at once through the Colonial Office for the loan of a manof-war to visit the afflicted little island. There was no telegraph nearer than Aden twenty-three years ago, so, although the matter was taken in hand at once in Downing Street, it was early in June of the same year before it could be finally arranged. A small gunboat was all that had been asked for, and lo! the flagship herself-the stately Euryalus-was put at the LieutenantGovernor's disposal through the courtesy of the admiral of the East Indian station, who made an official visit of his own to Madagascar fit in with the date of the proposed trip to Rodrigues. I have felt this little explanation to be necessary of how we came to be standing on the poop of H.M.S. Euryalus that lovely afternoon of our best mid-winter month. Our party had been kept as small as possible, for there was only the accommodation reserved for the admiral and his flaglieutenant vacant, and our good bishop had begged to come to look after the

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