Malachi hobbled up the path before I had time to recover myself, and presently vanished round the angle of the house. I stood rooted under the lychgate, my heart throbbing to suffocation, the forbidding old house opposite to me reeling before my eyes. What was this mystery? Who was this pursuer whose arrival had filled Dorothy with such terror, yet whom she hastened so impetuously to meet? Had he come to press an unwelcome suit? Was the fear which she evidently felt caused by him or by the knowledge of her own weakness? Even my brief acquaintance with him had made clear to me that the man was dangerously attractive; his power over her was evident. Yet perhaps, after all, my jealous heart was unduly suspicious; this might be but some wrathful Kinsman come in search of her; her sudden and mysterious appearance might very well be accounted for by the fact that she had run away from her Family in some freak or fit of temper. But then must she be coerced to return? I swore to myself that I would not permit it. I would remain at hand so as to take her part if need be. In fact I believe no earthly power could have induced me to budge until the stranger reappeared; without pausing to ask myself whether my conduct were honorable or the reverse, I was firmly resolved to watch and wait the issue of events.

After I had remained motionless at

my post for some little time, cogitating over every conceivable aspect of the affair, I suddenly bethought me that this could be no Brother of hers, seeing that their complexion was so different; and immediately the remembrance of certain words of hers flashed across me: "I have no liking for black men."

The stranger was fair enough. And again that very night in answer to my question as to whether there was no man whom she held worthy of trust, she had answered that there was indeed one. This was no doubt he! Pray Heaven she did not trust him too far! And once again a fit of jealous fury seized me.

I can never describe all that I felt and suffered during the ensuing hours; how my heart was in turn shaken by doubt and fear, consumed with anger, overwhelmed with pity, fired with a fierce resolve to avenge her wrongs if need be, to succour her should she call for aid.

It had grown quite dark when, chancing to turn in the opposite direction, I observed a light bobbing along at the further end of the lane, and presently heard rapid footsteps approaching.

I withdrew yet more behind the stonework of the gateway, in hopes that the bearer of the light might pass without perceiving me. This lane was unfrequented as a rule, yet to-night some chance reveller, might traverse it in a short cut homewards from the Hall.

The man drawing near, however, turned abruptly in at the gate, setting the wicket swinging in his haste, and as he was for passing me the light shone upon his clothes, and I recognized Sir Jocelyn's fine camlet coat, and his lace and ruffles.

Scarcely knowing what I did, I sprang out of my retreat and laid hold of him.

"You must not go up to the house,

Sir Jocelyn!" cried I. "Mrs. Ullathorne would be much displeased."

He wrenched himself from me with an angry oath, lifting at the same time his lantern so that the light fell upon my face.

"Luke Wright!" he exclaimed, "how dare you address me thus? I'll teach you manners, you young dog!"

"I beg your pardon, Sir Jocelyn," said I, "I forgot myself. I-I scarce knew" "Pray, what are you doing here?" he interrupted. "Acting watchman or spy?"

"Indeed I do not know," I faltered. "I came to escort Mrs. Dorothy home -and I" I broke off. "Pray, Sir Jocelyn, do not go in," I went on, after a moment.

"Not go in!" he echoed, "and have my walk for nothing. So you connived at her escape, did you, you rascal, taking advantage of my back being turned! But it will not avail her much, for I have come to carry her to the Hall immediately, that she may open the revels there as well as in the Marl-pit."

He spoke excitedly, and though he was as sober a gentleman as any of the neighborhood, indeed far more so than many persons of quality of his acquaintance, I could not forbear thinking that to-night he had been drinking. "I am sure," protested I humbly, "that Mrs. Ullathorne is tired this evening, and, moreover, she has company." "Company!" he cried, "What com

pany?"

At this moment we heard the bang of a door, and a dark figure emerged from the house and strode rapidly down the path.

"Confusion!" ejaculated Sir Jocelyn, lifting high his lantern in readiness to distinguish the features of the new

comer.

The latter, who had been advancing with head bent, suddenly perceived the

light, halted a second, and then quickened his pace. I saw his hand fly to his sword-hilt after the momentary pause.

Sir Jocelyn swore again as the rays, first falling upon the approaching figure, discovered its rich dress and elegant mien.

"Whom have we here?" he cried. "What does this gallant here at such an hour?"

The other was now close to us, and the light revealed to me that his face was convulsed with some violent emotion, and, moreover, unwontedly flushed.

"Sir," cried Sir Jocelyn, in a voice that trembled with anger, "what brings you to this house at this hour of the night?"

"Let me ask you, Sir Jocelyn Gillibrand," returned the other in tones to the full as fierce, "what brings you here? Let me tell you that you have no right to trespass upon the private premises of a Gentlewoman to whom your assiduities are unwelcome."

"Do you say so?" retorted Sir Jocelyn, with a sardonic laugh. "Then I tell you, Sir, that you lie yes, you lie! These premises happen to be my own property-the lady is my tenant. I have, moreover, every reason to believe that she is not at all averse to my attentions."

The other bowed low, but on straightening himself whipped his sword from its scabbard.

"I must beg leave to deny that statement," cried he. "I am ready to defend my opinion and throw back in your teeth your impeachment of my word."

Sir Jocelyn set down the lantern, and I heard the whistle of his blade as he jerked it from its sheath; in another moment they would have fallen to, then and there, just within the gate, had I not rushed in between them.

"For heaven's sake, Gentlemen," I

cried, "do not draw upon each other here within a few hundred yards of a Gentlewoman's house. If there be bloodshed Mrs. Ullathorne"

"True," said the stranger, interrupting me. "This is not the place to settle our difference. Is that you, my friend of yesterday?" he added, turning to me. "You are an honest lad, and may surely be trusted to see fair between us when we have reached some more suitable spot."

"No, by all the gods!" broke out Sir Jocelyn, in a more good-humored tone, "let us do the business in proper form. 'Twere a pity to miss such a chance. I own I love a bit of sword play delicately carried out, and by your look, Sir, you should wield a pretty blade. 'Twere a thousand pities to spoil the affair."

Here the other was about to interpose when Sir Jocelyn checked him.

"Do not doubt but that I mean to afford you the satisfaction which your honor demands," said he. "I do but wish that the affair should be carried out with due respect for ceremony, and as much regard to the niceties of detail as is possible under the circumstances. You will send a friend to me to arrange particulars of the meeting, which, with your leave, I propose should take place at daybreak to-morrow morning. I presume there is some Gentleman in the neighborhood who will be willing to act for you."

"Devil a one, Sir!" responded the other. "I am an entire stranger in the place and have no acquaintance within reach, unless you count this young man with whom I chanced to speak a word or two last night."

Sir Jocelyn burst into a mocking laugh, at which the other, who had restored his sword to its scabbard, partially drew it again.

"My quarrel is with you, Sir," he cried fiercely, "and I have no mind to be put off with trifles. Will you agree

to stand up to me, man to man, tomorrow, or must I force you to draw now?"

Sir Jocelyn, instead of retorting angrily as I expected, threw out his hand as though to appease his adversary's wrath.

"Pray be patient, Sir," said he. "I was but startled at the irregularity of your proposal. Honest Luke Wright

here is the son of one of my tenants, and knows more about the plough-handle than the sword, I imagine. Nevertheless, if you are satisfied with such an assistant, and since the duel is to be a single one, let Luke be your second by all means. He is an honest fellow and though he may cry 'Whoa' or 'Gee-back' when he should say 'Halt,' I have no doubt he knows the nature of fair play."

I flushed up at Sir Jocelyn's goodnaturedly contemptuous tone, and glanced hastily at his adversary in dread lest he should now despise me too much to accept of my act of service; but to my surprise and pleasure he looked back kindly, and stretched out his hand to me with that frank and friendly air which had before won my heart.

"Mr. Wright," said he, just as if I were his equal, "will you do me this favor? I vow had I a dozen acquaintances in these parts I should like you as well as any. "Twill bring me luck, I think, to have so honorable and straightforward a second."

I grasped his long slender hand in mine warmly, and he smiled as he withdrew it, and once more shot a kindly glance at me as though he would have said: "We understand each other." Then, turning to Sir Jocelyn, he addressed him as haughtily as before.

"I am lying to-night at the village ale-house hard by, and must ask you to waive etiquette for the nonce and send your friend to arrange the matter

66

with myself. Mr. Wright can walk to my lodging with me, so that all points can be settled without loss of time." "Tush!" said Sir Jocelyn in a vexed tone, ''tis a thousand pities to make such a hotchpotch of the business as we are doing. We might just as well settle it straight off, like any common brawlers, for all the dignity or elegance there will be about it. But I Own it is not convenient to me to fight to-night. It would, if I may say So, cast a shadow over my good folks' revels if the Master of them were run through before the opening of the ball. To-morrow then, Sir, we shall settle our difference. I will send my Cousin, Mr. Robert Bilsborough, to wait upon you without delay-by the way, Sir, you will perhaps favor me with your name?"

Here Sir Jocelyn picked up his lantern and once more held it so that the light fell full upon the other's face.

"I regret," responded the latter, "that I am unable to oblige you in this matter. It is not convenient for me to disclose my name. But after all, what signifies such a trifle? If I ran you through, my identity will signify little to you; if I should fall at your hands, your tenant"-he nodded towards the house with a stern look-"your tenant will communicate with my friends."

Now it was remarkable that throughout this encounter Sir Jocelyn, though at first angry, had subsequently come to speak in a light and bantering manner of the projected duel, treating the matter as if it were a jest, and appearing to have lost sight of the original cause of dispute-which attitude I cousidered to be partly due to an odd liking for such affairs, and partly to his semi-intoxicated condition. The stranger, on the contrary, found it hard work, as I noticed, to steady his voice and to emulate Sir Jocelyn's calm, and looked at the Baronet as he spoke with such

deadly animosity that I trembled for the latter's fate on the morrow.

I knew well that it was not Sir Jocelyn's insulting words which he resented, so much as his presence on the scene and his assumption of intimacy with Dorothy Ullathorne. Moreover, the man was seething with some secret passion, quite apart from jealousy-impotent anger, belike, or disappointed love.

He was in the mood to do desperate things, and as we walked away together my heart failed me on Sir Jocelyn's account.

"You were lucky in finding room at the ale-house, Sir," I said presently, speaking partly because silence was irksome to me and partly because I was anxious to know why he had shifted his quarters.

But he did not gratify me on this point.

"I made it worth their while to find room for me," said he, and spoke no more till we came to the place.

Here he called for refreshments, being attended by the Landlady, who was alone in the house, and whom he informed in a careless tone that she might now furnish him with the reckoning as it was his purpose to set forth on his travels before dawn on the morrow.

"La, Sir!" cried she, in a disappointed tone, "we was in hopes you was going to stay wi' us a two-three days. I am sure you said you was, and we'n turned out Farmer Leatherbarrow to mak' room for ye and all. 'Twas scarce worth our while to mak' him shift for one night!"

"You shall not be the loser, my good Dame," retorted he. "I thought I should find your Marling Feast more diverting than I do, you see. But 'tis dull work watching strangers make merry."

"Eh, dear, an' so 'tis, I doubt," responded the kind soul, with a compas

sionate groan. "But such a bonny gentleman as yoursel' 'ull not long want for friends, for sure. Sir Jocelyn hissel”

"Sir Jocelyn is already my very good friend," cried he with a harsh laugh. "I am expecting a Kinsman of his to see me immediately. But for all that I find it dull here, and I must be off to-morrow. Will any of your folk be stirring so early, think you?”

"My word, your Honor, I can tell you naught as to that. I doubt they'll none of them be back fro' the dancing. I'll do my best to wakken up mysel', but I've been a-foot all day-as a poor woman must when her Gaffer goes a-pleasurin', leaving all the work to her"

"Nay, I'd never be so hard-hearted as to disturb you, Dame. Leave the stable unlocked and a measure of corn handy, so that I may feed my horse before I set out. I'll breakfast somewhere on the road."

Presently Master Rovert appeared, and, on the door of the little sanded room being closed, bowed low to my principal, and ironically to me.

It was arranged that the meeting was to take place at Oaklands, a small wood on Sir Jocelyn's property about midway between the inn and Ferneby Hall. Master Robert eyed the stranger

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with great curiosity and presently remarked with a titter:

"This is, I vow, the most mysterious affair. You, Sir, it seems, are determined to remain nameless, and my Kinsman, Sir Jocelyn, not only swears me to the direst secrecy concerning it, but absolutely refuses to make me acquainted with the cause of the dispute." "Sir Jocelyn shows his discretion," replied the other.

"I think, however," resumed Master Bilsborough with a sly look, "I think, however, he he! that I can form a pretty shrewd guess. A certain fair lady with whom you appear to have been smitten at first sight-he! he!and whose address you carefully noted -I suspect "

"Pray, Sir, have the goodness to keep your suspicions to yourself!" said the stranger hotly. "I think we have now completed our arrangements, and I will no longer detain you. "Twould be a thousand pities that you should miss any more of the festivities."

Master Robert looked for the moment a little resentful, but a certain flash in the keen blue eyes which were bent upon him seemed to recommend prudence, and he therefore bowed with a cringing air, and said he was vastly obliged to the Gentleman for his consideration.

If English gardeners had to stock their gardens with British plants only -and such was almost the case before the middle of the fifteenth century— they might have had pleasant gardens, but the gardens could not have been brilliant in color, or varied in the number and character of their plants. It is true that we have many very beauti

ful British plants. Among our true natives we have wood anemones, bluebells, daisies, heather, sea-thrift, traveller's joy, hawthorn, lily of the valley, daffodils, primroses, wild roses, gorse, broom, and, others; and, among strangers that have taken so kindly to our soil and climate that we almost count them as true natives, we have snow