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Even in the popular mind, impressed 35 it had been by the firmness of the prisoner’s counterâ€"accusation against; his employer, George’s position began to look fishy. The Saracen stood ail that day With bolted doors, shuttered windows, and down blinds. Dinah would have fain left the house on her own mission, but; Daniel, who by this time knew the disgrace which had fallen upon him, The case, said the magistrate. must be reâ€" manded until Wednesday. In the mean time, the police would make all enquiry _ after the whereabouts of the notes in'which the cheque had been paid. The bank manager had with him a memorandum of the notes, and, being again put into the box, swore to its accuracy. The prisoner was removed. no bail being ofiered or demanded. The day’s work was over, and the crowd dispersed. An hour later, the news flew through the town that more than half the notes were traced. Gurtice the solicitor had paid them into the bank theday after that on which they had been drawn, and being interrogated, had de- clared that the prisoner had handed them to aim in satisfaction of an account long over- us. “ Thai is one of two things, Mr. Banks," said :he magistrate. “ It is either a. very complete defence, or a. very foolish one. If it is not true, nothing could tell more heav ily against you than such a defence." -“ I} is tnie.” said the prisoner, and nine ougof ten believed him for the moment. Suddenly a heart had found its Way into the internal vacuum. and it beat madly at the prisoner’s aide. Could the people hear it ? There was such a clamor offexcited tongues when the prisoner had made this speech, that the officials ejectâ€" ed half a dozen of the spectators and lodged them on the packed and crowded stairs before silence was restored. “ I am perfectly innocent of the charge brought against me. I received the check from Mr. Bushell’s own hands, and paid the money over to him on his return from L0n~ don. I am at a loss to understand the accu- sation, unless it has been brought forward with the diabolical intention of ruining an innocent man.” George answered in a. voice which the local reporter called “ unmoved,” though to himself It sounded as if somebody else were speaking. Had the prisoner anything to say in answer to the charge ‘1 He need say nothing. Any- thing he did sav would be taken down. The case could not be dealt. with there, and would have to go for trial. ' The proceedings were formal, and necesv eerily incomplete. George Bushell, sworn, made his statement, denying the validity of the check, and producing the crumpled scraps he had discovered. The bank manager. sworn, made his statement, and proved that the prisoner had himself cashed the check. He admitted that he had noticed nothing suspicious or peculiar in Mr. Banks’s deâ€" mentionâ€"Nothing. The inspeclor lent the prisoner brushes and other necessaries in the morning, and even gave him a clean shirt, taking George’s in return. There was no news from the Sam- oen, and the priuoue!‘ dared not send there, believing his father‘s silence due to Diuah’:~ betrayal of the truth in that unfortunate aflait of the cash box ; or. at least. having fear enough of the the betrayal to keep him from making even the slightest appeal to home. How long the night had seemed. and how _slowly the shackled fee‘ of the minutes craw- “‘- \along in the morning! I have talked " "‘ __Englishm&‘u who was led out one ,f‘fl'gg during thg Carlie: War to be sclen : , and-had distinguished himself under fire pretty often. There was something of that unpleasant sensation in the criminal’s inter ior when at last a hand was laid upon him and he was told to rise and mount a set of corkscrew steps which led him from the waiting chamber of justice into the hall it- self. The hall of justice was small and shabby, and there were fifty or sixty people packed into it like herrings in a barrel. There were hundreds more outside eager for a look at him, doomed for the present to be disappointed. The prisoner was a goodâ€"look ing young fellow. tall, straight, and broad shouldered, scrupulously dressed and groomâ€" ed. He smoothed his silky moustache nern vouer with his ringed hand, and stood squarely there, at military ease. Nobody at first looking at him thought him likely to be guilty. The women who were squeezed in with the other spectators were with him every one. But our young criminal was not yet conâ€" verted to the ways of wisdom. The rat who has made predatory excursions after your salad oil is not converted when the avenging terrier gets him into a corner. He squeals. and bites if he can, and dies with the rat- pulses of him beating to the tune of despair ing vengeance. George was very angry. He anathematised Bushell and Curtise and the spirit merchant whose half chance call had so depleted the cash box. Why did nobody come near him ? Why was not his father here to oficr bail until the morrow, and to show a little of that fatherly faith which. even if misplaced, was surely due to one whose guilt had not yet been proved? If they could not prove what he had done with the money he tried to persuade himself that he might yet have a squeak for liberty. It was only Bushell’s w: rd against his, and he would face it out. In hours of extremity you see safety in any foolish trifle. There was no reason why Curtice should talk, and if he held his tongue it was a point in the prison er’s favor. Ethel’s silence, of course, was certain. Not even feminine spite at being disgraced could make her false to him. The poor wretch did love her,after all, as well as he knew how to love, and he could not think as ill of her as he did of everybody else. If his best conceptions of her were shameful to herâ€"and they wereâ€"he gave her his best, and it was love that created them. Ethel would be staunch to him, and would not betray him. If he Were found guilty, she might send the money back secretly to George Bushell, but until then she would hold it for him, and keep a still tongue. He did not upbraid himâ€" self for being a villain and a fool, but he up- braided circumstance for the hard measure dealt out to him. Only to have quietly bor- rowed three hundred pounds, wuh the most upright intentions, and to lose Ethel, the acres of Quarrymoor. home, good name, the Saracen. Daniel's quiet but substantial earn ings â€"the punishment and the offense seemed unequal. Tilers was a. wise man in the East whose ognstan't prayer it was that he might see to daLwiyh the eyes of to-morrow. Aprison couch is rarely luxurious, even “1011511 3 man be blessed with that approv. ing conscience which is popularly and mis take.ny supposed to make him quite easy in his mind. It is easy to be vii-tuously indig nan: about a scoundrel and his doings. but harder, much harder. to understand him, to see things from his point of View, to com» prehend his selfâ€"jumfications. his excuses To my mind, a. scoundrel is much to be pitied for being a scoundrel. His detection and punishment are good things for him, and we who are virtuous may claim for his soul’s good to see that the knots of the whip are drawn tight, and that a strong arm lsys it on. But we are not with out compassion as he writhes. It is hard measure. Could he have exercised an unbiassed judgment to begin With, he would probably have chosen another lot than this. George had not long to wait for an oppor- tunity to vindicate himsalf. The petty ses- sions were held the mummg rafter his arrest. JOS: PH'S CO‘AT. egistered in accordance with the Copyrigh Act of 1875.] BY DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY. CHAPTER XII. " that Mr. Banks and I were engaged to he , married.” That was a theme about ‘ Whihh on common occasions Ethel would not havess-poken to anybody except her mother and her lover, but she spoke of it now .-as a‘ matter of course, and with no confusion. John nodded again. Her pride in George and her certainty of him were troublesome to his spirit, for he himself was in love with her with all his heart, and it was bitter, to he sure, that she had so much to suffer. “ Looking forward to that,” she said, “ he gave me this moneyâ€"a hundred and ten pounds â€"to keep for him.” She laid the bundle of notes upon the table, and John reached out for it. This cast a curious light upon the case. he thought ; but when once he had unfolded the notes, he fell back in his oflicial arm chair and looked at her with so amazed and stricken a noun tenance that she arose to her feet and looked back at him as if his sorrow and surprise had been an epidemic, and she in a flash of time had caught it. “ I can prove it," said Ethel, quietly. Sh disliked this young man again, but he was not; as carnain of her lover‘s innocence as she was. “ You know already,” she went on. “ Come,” he said, brightening a little. ” that is something in his favor.” He knew his client pretty thoroughly. and thought him guilty, but there was a chance that his story of acouspiracy was true, after all, though the chance was certainly one of the slender est. ' We must do our best." he said, with a dismal attempt at cheerfulness. II” If I wanted an argument for his inno sauce of such a shameful crime,” said Ethel, resenting herselfâ€"“ and I certainly don‘t. want anything of the sortâ€"I have it with me now. Before a man commits a crime he musr have a. motive for it. George was saving money, and had a considerable sum in his possession at the very time when he is said to have forged this check.” She spoke with such an assured and quiet sewn that John; Keen’s heart ached for her. But he had his ‘ wits about him, too. “ No," séidyJohn unwillingly, “ not Exaét- 1y. We were old school fellows. and his peo~ ple geemed to dfsgtt Eim, ggd Irtllougrhtâ€"” " Thank you. Mr. Keen,” said Ethel, rising from her chair and impulsively holding out her hand. “ Any one who has known him can tell how ridiculous the accusation is.” I Ethel followed perforce, and Mr. Bowker led her by intricate ways to the office of a Mr. Packmore. an elderly conveyancer, who had no more to do with criminal legahties Wm,Mwas able'to tell her that “ I am told,” she answered, “ that you are defending Mr. Banks.” John nodded mis embl). and shifted his papers to and fro upon his desk. “ I did not know,” she went on, “ until this morning that any charge had been preferred against him. But I saw from the newspaper that he had no lawyer, and I came to engage one. Did he send for you 7" John took her hand in an embarrassed way, and with embarrassment released it. Mr. Keen wee at home and would receive Miss Donne. He rose when she entered, and pushed his long hair back with both hands, looking at her earnestly and with evident sadness. “ I think," he began, “I can guess the object of your visit.” His voxce trailed ofl, mid he left {he sen tence unfinished. ” Trouble I" said Mr. B when wit 1 great gallantry. “ In’s no trouble to do a. turn for a good lookin’ lady. This way, miss, it you please.” “ No. miss. thank you." answered William. “ You do't look the sort to want to mek a man feel ashaamed of himsen.” Ethel withdrew the proflered fiorin swiftly, with a little blush. ‘ “I am very much obliged to vou,” she said. “ Not a bit on it," protested Mr. Bowker. “ I do’t git the chance to tak a. walk wi’ a young lady every day. Let alone a nice look- ing un.” he added, fearing lest the compli- meat might seem feebly expressed, without that addendum, Sad as she wizs, she could scarcely thank him with less than a. smile. William grinned aniducked responsive. Mr. Bowker did know of another lawyer. as it happened, and volunteered. to show the way: At the edge of the town she encountered an undersized ooaly man in very heavy and dirty flannel. Any lady strange to the dis- trieu might have been excused if the eoaly man’s exterior had deterred her from address ing him. But Ethel approached him with out any thought of his appearance. \ “ Can you direct me to a lawyer’s eflice? “ she asked. “Do you know another naked. She had an objection Mr. Keen. There was the money George had given her. For such a. purpose as she had in mind it was surely righteous to use that. She took the bundle of notes from their hiding place, and slipped them into her bosom, dressed and set out upon her walk. The roads were miry. bu; the day was bright and eleer.freshening with recent rains. Ethel was a good pedestrian. es efatmer’s daughter should be, and the four miles were not much to her, animated by such a purpose as she bore. ” Why. yis, miss,” said Mr. Bowker. “ Tnere’s Mr. Ksen'a ofliee roun' the corner It‘s nine or ten housen up, wi’ a. brass plan 0’ the door." "‘ I need not trouble, you." said the girl with_a sort of sad graciousness. And so, not merely thinking him guiltless, but feeling as persuaded of his honor as if she herself had held it in her keeping, she turned about to see in what way she could be of service to him. She was quick to see and understand anything set before her, and though she was as ignorant of legal matters as most women are, it seemed strange to her that nobody should have spoken for him. Surely he should have had a lawyer to defend him, but the stupidities had only arrested him the day before, and were bent appar- ently on aflording him as little chance as possible for the proof of his transparent in- nocence. The man of business who had made her father's will, and who still man- aged such small legal concerns as Mrs.D0une was afflicted with, lived thirty miles away. and she knew no other lawyer. Yes athere was Mr. Keen, but she did not think well of Mr. Keen’s spiritual prospects, and she had begged George to cease to associate with him. There were other lawyers to be had, and she could easily find them. But then came the question of money. She had heard it said em phatieally that lawers above all men, de~ manded that their services should be paid for. That was Uncle Borge’s verdict, and Uncle Borge was of a decidedly litigious char- acter lâ€"- and had experience. had stemly forbid len her. and. had in lead duven her to her room and locked her there with_ugwonted imprecations. 1 do nor. believe than mate is any crimiu ally minded out alive who would not deny himself his crime, if he could see the brood that in is sure to bear. Even public gossip. which is irreverent enough. and even private spite, which is up0u occasion cruel, spare something. and Ethel heard no word of the dreadful tidings of her lover’s wickedness. But the daily newspaper spares nobody. and in its columns she read the tale. And how. will you ask, did Bile accept the story ? How should she accept it, but like the loyal and true hearted maid she was, With passionate faith' in her lover, and unmeasured defiance and. scorn for his new serl It never entered into her heart for a. fraction of a second to believe him guilty. Guilty? Heâ€"her lover? The policeman who arreqted him. the magistrate who comâ€" mitted him, the people who looked on and listened were sunk beneath the lowest reach of contemptuous indignation, not to kn0w, not to see at a glance, that he was and must be innocent. “Greit heaven!”he gasped, and, rising, lawyer," she to consulting The rightful heir was committed to take , his trial, and the wrongful heir was bound ‘ over to appear against him. Ethel also was bound over to appear, and waited for the day Wllh every hour a dull agony. It came at last, and Master George, following his own wise maxim of in for a penny in for a pound, stuck to' his tale of a conspiracy. He was without defense, cross-examined no wit- nesses, but made his simple and despairing plaint to a jury convinced of his guilt and a Judge whom his base protestations made angry. When Ethel had recovered from her swoon in the police court, her deposition was brought to her to be signed, and the inâ€" telligent and active oflicer whose duty it was ‘ to see that she signed it, guided her weak and shaking fingers with such result that her signature looked like that of Guy Fawkes after the rack. The judge had read the depo sitions and had seen the signature, and it had got somehow into the judicial mind that the prisoner was going to marry socially be neath him. When therefore, the name of Ethel Donne was called aloud, and the girl stepped into the witness-box, his lordship was very strongly surprised and favorably impressed by her appearance. When she told anew the story of the false trust her lover had invested in her hands, the hardened official heart began” to discern a tragedy unusually terrible even for his exper- ience. George stuck to his colors. and pro claimed himself once more a maligned and persecuted character, the victim of an un- heard of conspiracy. the jury, without leaving the box found him guilty, and his lordship, frostin remarking that if the pris- oner had set up another sort of defense he might have been let ofl more lightly, in con- sideration of his youth, his social condition, and the good prospects he had ruined, sen tenced him to two years’ imprisonment. There was scarcely a lighter heart that day in Stafford town than old George’s. The bnr‘ den of fear which had lain upon him for weeks past fell away and left him freeâ€"free at least for two years, and two years give time enough even for the slowest man to turn about in. And apart from that, Dinah’s silence argued the whole thing a lie. so far as her story of the marriage was concerned. Beyond the marriage he had no need to trou~ ‘ ble himself, and he began to dismiss even the remotest lear of that from his mind. He dined at the Swan, took his way home by train, and for a day or two he lived on in Wmmumm eyes. This persistent regard draws. shifty glance now and again from Gaorge, but John‘s aspect never changed. The angry loathing in it might have disconcerted even 1 an honorable man. Dmah was in the court. resolved to tell her story to the magistrate. For Daniel, after his first rage,had fallen into lethargy, and had let her have her way, not even undeh standing the tale she told him with so many fawning piteous caresses and such tears of heanbresk. John Keen, to the general sub- prise, had thrown up the ones for: he defense. but sat there in court with I. :1 u I hard face, Doubt is not incompatible with belief, after all. A man may believe a thing pretty firmly and yet have his misgivings about it. Old George believed that Dinah had lied to him, and having an interest in that belief, he gave it all the nourishment he had to glve, But he felt like one who wale on unsafe ground who cannot leave the place, and has no clue to the divination of the moment when the mine may burst. A sensmtion not wholly comfortable, as any successful schemer may believe. “ The child I bore 1” groened Dinah, None heard the words but Ethel ; for Dinah, as she spoke them, rose beside the witness- box and stretched out her arms as if to save the girl from this last and cruelleet blow. Ethel turned to embrace her and fainted on that sheltering bosom. l “ I would as soon be shot as do it,” said i the miserable John ; “ but it has to he done. gl‘hese are the circumstances.â€"â€"Mr. Bushell Icharges the prisoner with forgery. The pri- soner answers that he received the check from Mr. Bushell, cashed it for him at the bank, and paid the money into his hands. [‘he people at the bank keep a register of the number of all notes paid out and received ; they supply the police with a copy of that register in this particu [at ease, and of course it becomes the duty of the police to tra :6 the notes and see whose bands they pass through. Now, here”â€"he handed her aslip of paper from a pigeon hole in his deskâ€""here is a copy of the bank manager‘s memorandum. Look at the notes yourself, Miss Donneâ€"I hate myself for tell- ing you lâ€"and you will see that you have had put into your innocent hands a portion of the forger’s gains. And now the murder’s out I” It was decided, before that terrible inter- view ciosed, that there was but; one thing so be done with the knowledge John Keen had acquired â€"to submit it; to the authori ties And so on Wednesday the sight Beers a: the police court beheld the outside of as great a. tragedy as ever a woman's heart play- ed a part in. Guinea got up and told his tale. and the prisoner, paliid and desperate. gave him the lie. Ethel, gently handled by the magistrate, told us: story. What it cost to tell it can never be known. Dinah heard it, and began to hate her child. " Have you any question to ask this wit- ness. prisoner ?" Thus said Sir Sydney Cheston, maéisbrate. The human rat in a corner shrieked. “ It’s false 1 It’s a. vile conspiracy I" There rose a. cry of indignation from the littleficrowd in ‘the packed court. The murder was out indeed. In the face of such evidence. faith was useless. There was no crevice, in the certainty which pris- oned her,through which the loyalest doubt of love could struggle. Love’s dream was over, and love's gilded idol lay shattered at ner feet. The amazed. contempt and acorn with which she had read the story of the accusation of her lover, the loyally with which she would have clung to him against all the evidence the wide world could bring lent a doubled and redoubled force to the blow which fell upon her. She would have taken him to her true breast, against the jeers of the universe, whilst she knew him to be true. For she had not merely thought him honest, believed him honestâ€"she knew him to be honest, as only love knows love ; and after all, his truth was a lie, and the gift of his love a shame from which no years or tears could cleanse her. I will not try beyond this to tell you how she suflered. > Then Ethel Donne appeared in the witness box. and the Coward’s heart stood still. “Yes,” she answered boldly, though amazed. He let them fall to the table. his arm dropped heavily to his side,and he fell back into his seat again limply; then rising on a. sudden, he paced the room, and pulled at his long hair with both hands. Al this she regarded him with increased wonder, following him with her eyes until, wrthafinal wrench at his hair, he threw uimself bodily into the seat ‘ he had just quitted. and g‘m-ed at her like one distraught. “ What is it, Mr. Keen ? ” she asked, not without a. tone of contempt in her voice. “ Explain yourself,” she answered stead- fast snill. All color had flown from her face except for one spot on enher cheek. and her tine nostrils were a. little dilated, but her eyes glitcered with 8. light which under some cir- cumstances would haye looked dangeroua._ ‘- Hm Donne," protested the young law yer earnestly, “ my heart bleeds for you! " She faced him bravely, without a. word, wait- ing for him. “ I must, tell you what it will pain you terribly ‘0 know." ' “ Tell me," Ehe said steadfastly, seeing that he faltered. _-.y- .n... u... qulu uuu “LUFPLUE w 11511.1“, “ was all that was wanted finally to prove his guilt. The villain I ” he muttered; grinding his teeth _and startjpg t9 his feet again. tell me, M153 Donne, that Georé’éiéangsvg‘gw}; you these I” “ This.” he said, taking up the bundle of notes from the table ant} _drqpping it again, held out. the notes at arm’s 1engi;h_1 “_Do you L." W, CHAPTER XIII. “ D‘ye mind comiu’ here a. minute, master ?" asked the housekeeper, reap- pezuing. George picked his way through the .J” It was my mother as axed me to do it.” :he declared. “ Fetch a policeman,” said George again, and Mrs. Bullus, with no intention of obey. mg, left the room. The master of the house went on opening the little packages, and spread them all out before the miserable June. “ This is What my household ptOVi sions has been a-gomg to, is it- ] Eh ?” said he with with withering sarcasm. “ How many shillin'nworths of my property have you stale ? Answer me that this minute. Wheer‘s that policeman, Mrs. Bullus ?” The wrétched detected one fell upon her knees before him with a countenance of im- ploripg agony. “ Mré. Bullus,” said old George, regarding the criminal with Rbadamanthine severity, “ finch a. policeman.” “ This is a nice sort 0’ place to hide things in,” said he. whilst the housekeeper loosely tumbled the things back into the meagre box. He went, stepping gingerly between broken chairs and the other lumber with which the corner was filled, towards the wardrobe. The door had long since lost its handle. but ht- olawed it open. and rapped out a. good round ‘oath. for there at the bottom of the wardrobe ‘lsy a score or two of little packages. mere newspaper screws, and on these fell the man who had inherited a quarter of a mlllion of money and had doubled it. Unfolding l them one by one, he displayed their con tents to the housekeeper with a suppressed severity of passion worthy of a loftier cause. In one was an ounce of cheese, in another a little bit of butter, and in a third 2. table spoonful of coffee, in a fourth epinch or two of moist sugar. And as the owner of a half a million sterling opened up to the house keeper’s vision this hidden stolen treasure. the peccsnt Jane. who had come into the house by the back way, bounced into the room and stood guiltin transfixed before the «mousing eyes of her master. There was not much in the box, and if anything had been stolen it had certainly not been‘frpm old George. “Turn the “Sings 0:1: 0’ that theer box," said George. .“I’ll see who’s 8. thievin’ i‘ myihouse.” ' “Why. what‘s this ?"he (filled to the housgkqeper. It may go without saying that the dull schemer had long ceased to have any remorse about young Joe, or the method by which he himself had acquired young Joe's fortune. At a very little distance of time the cheque he had given to his nephew had begun in memory to communicate a. sense of warmth to his heart, and he thought the gift an almost unex ampled stroke of generosity. Lifeless things which had once belonged to the brother and sister whose hearts he helped to break were not likely to touch him very keenly at any time, and after these years were scarcely linely to remind him at all of their first own ers. He was absolutely unaffected by them. and had no present memory of Joseph and Rebecca nor any thought about them. " Come wi’ me l” said her maeter, so angri~ 1y that, privileged as long service had seemed to make her, she dare answer him no fur ther. George Bushell led the way, and the Woman, thh an expreseion of coumenance which appeared to presagc a 185; of some sort.followad. The old man Wdlked to the top of the house and entered 9. little bare room in the attic. He glared round him in rage and amazement, seeing nothing but the Late walls and the floor‘von which mere was a great paton of wet eel-responding to anoth er patch in the plastered ceiling. “This-is the room' Jane slep’ in up till last Wedgesdgy was aweek." th‘woman it’s been a raihin so, and the roof’s 'zhat bad‘ we had to move her bed into the lumber room.” " You said come along of me," the house keeper answered, and grinned broadly all ever her Back Country countenance as her master, growling, led the way downstairs again. The room he next entered was hell filled with odds and ends of furniture, broken chairs. crippled tables, and the like. and in one corner stood a high shouldered wardrobe, which had once been made part of the furniture of his brother Joseph‘s bed room. When old Joe died, brother George had laid hands upon everything. even upon those things which were of no use to him. “ Keep a thing long enough and you’ll find a. use for it," was one of George's constantly quoted aphonsms. But he had never dreamed of keeping this old wardrobe for such a use as at length he found in it. “ Hold your tongue, woman,” said George savagely. “ An, when that liccle trollup comes in againâ€"Here, niver mind waitin’ for Lhat. You come wi’ me. an’ I‘ll have a look at her box now this minute, an’ if I find anything theer as don’t belong to her, I’ll send her to Stafford jail as sure as I’m alive Come along ” ” Why cenldn'o you he] told me that store," asked George. “instead 0‘ bringin’ me a tmpgsin’ alLthe wayAup here ?” Mr. Bushell s maid of all work was but newly emancipated from the discipline of the Bastille, as they called the workhouse‘ in those parts, and was therefore naturally sup- posed to be able to content herself on a mou- Ol' Lte diet. ” Wuy,_it couldn’t ha.’ come about at all." cried the old man, “onless I was a bein’ robbed again. Where’s that little nussey of a. Jana? Fetch her here. I’ll ge‘ at the bot tom _0’ this one way or anothen" It was Mrs. Bullus’ favorite method of warfare to carry the fighting into the enemy’s country in this wise whenever she and her master held a dispute together. “er for shame, master," said Mrs Bullus “ I wouldn’t. be that suspecms like, not; to have ivery hair 0’ my head hung wi‘ gold. That I wouldn’t.” - “ Jane’s gone up to Mrs Bunch’s to borrer a strainer. There ain’t a. si’ fit to use in‘the wull house, an’ that’s as true as I’m a standâ€" in' here if I should never spunk another word an’ the Lord A’mighty knows in.” “ I'm sure, sir,” said Mrs. Bullus in some wrath, “ as nobody’s got cause to say a word against me on that count. I’ve been a honest woman all my days,a.n’ if you're sayin‘ anythm’ again’ me, you’ll have to prove your words. For, what though I' am poar, ain’t speritless to endure it.” “ D’ye call this flare item right ?” he asked, almost fierce‘r .. “ Eight and Sixpence for tea an’ oofi'ee in a week for three people. an’ one on ’em Just fetched new out of the Workus.” ” Look here, ” he said, when she reap poured in answer to his summoms; “ I’m a- being robbed right 2111' left, I am. I shan’b stand it, Bullua, an’ you“ better mek your mind up to that at once. Here’s two pound of butter g< us since last Saturday. an’ a pound an’ a. half 0’ candles. An’ as for tea. an’ coffee, why, you might swim in ’em, to look at these hen accounts. Now, I’ve been done pretty smart a’ready, an’ 10’s the fuat time. an’ it’ll be the lastâ€"mind what I’m 84" telliq’ you ” It happened in this wise. His housekeeper brought him every week a. list of the house expenses, and he had been in the habit of checking this to the last fnrlhing with his own hand, even whilst he had resigned the almost entire care of his vast business con~ cerne to the acoundrel who had at last forged his name. She brought in the list now it day or two after the trial, and George, sitting down to consider it. arrived at the concluston that cheese, candles, tea, coffee, butter, and other articles of household use were going faster than they shou‘d do. He was in a. more than commonly grudging humor, and there was a sum of two hundred pounds to be made up somehow by squeezing some- thing or somebody. He mug for his house- keeper. George was getting to be querulous as he grew old, and that matter of the forgery had set his temper’a teeth on edge so thoroughly that small things jarr (1 him. the usual way, until a. little incident led to a big one, and he began again to be terribly afraldâ€"much more afraid. indeed, than before. “ Well, it does seem a large sum, air,” the housfikeeper admitted. The houaekeeper retired, and having soothed June with promises of public hangA ing in case of any renewal of her peccadilw loes. She mused upon her mwster. “ He’s hard to get on wi’,” she concluded. " But I think he’s main true at bottom. An’ anyhow he does abhor a thief, an' so do I.” “ Five-an'vtwenty,"said old George. “ Yes: I’ll keep it. You go an’ frlghten that little troilop’s life 0111:. Tell her I’ll ha.’ no mercy on her next lime if ever her does such a thing again. I’ll ha,’ nobody but; upright folks 1’ my house, Mrs. Bullus.” “ Why, iyhab’d be young Mnsfiex Joseph as run away from hum when I was a. gell," said the, housekeeper. “ More than twenty ’ear £80.” “ is th’ on’y one thing as is left in the wull wide world of a poor nevew 0’ mme. My eldest brother’s on’y son he was. an’ that’s his coat; I just found. I’ll keep it.” “ Why, master.” she said, advancing towards it, “ whatever do you mean by keepin’ a mg like that in the parlor, a~makin’ a litter? ’ " Leave it alone ” cried George. “ I want it." He was never unwilling lo shown softer side to his nature. when he could do it inex~ pensiVely. '" That gnrminl,” he proceed ed, “ 1’11 Eek a day or two to think it Over,” he responded, and the housekeeper was about to retire, when she saw me decayed and milâ€" dewed old coat lying on the table. There Wis a considemnon there which touched old George. Give him the benefit of the Qngtg anq say it was pity, “ Hal’s uâ€"cryin’ fit to split, master, said the housekeeper. “Her SWeal‘S her mother set heron to it, and ,says her’ll never do it again I can allays keep a look on her.” “ Send her ufi,” Bald George. " Her'a afraid to go home,” the house- keeper pleaded. “ Best let her stop, master. Her cornea cheaper than a. bigger gall would, an’ I’ll keep a look on her.” “ Mek the baggage pack her things up and be off an once,” he answered. “ I’ll have no rogugry -i’ this [1911:13le I my help it.” “ What am I to do along 0’ Jane. master ‘2” she inquired. NILâ€"Bushell had forgotten the peccant maid, buba flush of virtuous heat touched hum at the mention of her. “ Cqme in I" cried he,§ud the housekeeper entered. “ Her must lm’ been an uncommon foolish sort 0’ a. woman to ha.’ laid out 0’ her money all these 'eare for want 0’ a scrap like this,” said the considerate George with the certifi- cate held between his plump thumb and finger. “ But sence her has laid out o’ it, an’â€"whyâ€"I llâ€"â€"â€"â€"" He did not complete the sentence, but he took the poker in his d1sengsged hand, holâ€" lowed out the fire, put the certificate gently into the hollow, and beat down the glowing coals upon it. As he did so, his brother's latest action came into his mind. Not that the burning of the will had made any differ- ence in his position, or could have done, any more than now the destruction of the mar- riage certificate made; but the two things somehow associated themselves together. The burning of the W11]. had heralded in a tenancy of fiveâ€"endwtweuty years: the de- struction of the certificate might, for any thing he could tell, be as good an omen. Whilst he still stood idly beating at. the coals with we poker, a tap came to the daor. “ Her don’t want in,” mused old George, “Said so with her own lips. It don’t belong ,gg_}:l_iy‘_|_ugt}ill hails fiend. an’ if it belonged Ho him now he’s a. felon." ’ He'conld' argue well on the side of justice, for he went onâ€" “ An’ if he signed his own name, he didnt know it, an’ it was a felonioue'intention. I‘ve heard thatch the bench many a time. What’s to be looked at is the intention. It never was i' my mind for a minute to swmdle anybody. I gave a hundred pound to my young nevew Joseph as I’ve never seen again from that, day to this. If he'd ha.’ come again, an’ he} took everythin', could I ha’ and to him : ‘Juseph. you owe me a hundred pound?’ Now. could I? Could I ha’ been so mean as to he] said it ?" For two years he could be honest and yet hold the money. And yet he began to doubt that postulate. The money had never belonged ta‘young George as yet, but it unâ€" doubtedly did belong now, and had be- longed ever since old Joe’s death, to Dinah, young‘Joe’s wedded Wife, Well, there was some comfort there. She had. voluntarily resigned it all this time, and had, indeed. when she sued for mercy for her son, ex; presst dieowned all desire to claim it. He felnmagnanimously disdainful at the thought. He seemed reluctant to touch the coat; again, for he put his hand out towards it once or twice, and drew it back. But laying hold of it at last, he took a step to the door, as if intending to return it to the place from whieh he had taken it, but as he did so he stopped short, dropped the garment noon the table, and felt a. part of it with his kind.” ( “ Theer’s some‘hin’ i’ the linin’,” he said slowly. “ A bit 0‘ paper 0’ some sort.” The lining was so old and rotten that he tore it open easily with his fingers, and there. sure enough. was a. scrap of paper. George put on his glasses and looked at it. No change in face or altitude gave notice of the shock it brought him to read the little document he held. Yet it was nothing less than a copy of the certificate of marriage be- tween Joseph Bushell, bachelor, and Dinah Banks, spinater. Then, Dinah’s story of the marriage had not been a lie, after all I Errant Joe had left a. rightful heir behind him I The first conscious and distinct feeling he had was of relief that this discovery had not been made before George had proved himself unworthy. It is always pleasanter to escape from being a scoundrel than to be one, and new old George was armed in honesty for two years at least. For two years he could be honest. and yet hold the money. Any question of becoming dishonest and still uuldiug the money might reasonably be do terred until the time came. ' do "is of the corner and joined the woman on side. “ Yo don't r’aly want me to fetch a pleece- man. do you ‘1 ” she arked. Old George went heavily back into the lumber 100m. The criminal wasin a. con- dilion of abject. terror, boo booing on the floor. Her employer, dialegaxdmg her, pass- ed once more to the wardrobe. " Is there anythin‘ else you’ve hid here, you wickcd gelr .9 ” he demanded, poking about in the darker corners. “ Why, wuat’e this? Have you been aâ€"tryin’ to steal a coat 0’ mine? ” The garment he had in his hand was none of his, as the glance of a moment told him. It was old and mildewed, and al- most rotten in places, and it felt moist in his hand. A certain mustv smell with which his nostrils had been acquainted ever since his entry to the room, seemed now to be chiefly traceable to this shabby and decayed old coat. The blubbering little culprit was for- gotten. George had heard the man- ner of his siszeruiu-law’s death, and had been told of her last word. It was Joseph’s coat. He held the coat in his hand, and knew it almost at a glance. He Walked into his own room with it, threw it into a chair, and stood staring at it for a full minute. There were few men less likely to be affected by the sight of any worthless relic such as this. but possibly it hit him as it did because it was such a trifle, and because he had found it after such a lapse of years. A greater thing arising sooner might have passed him by. “ It‘s made me feel moist all o’er,” said he. rubbing the palm of the hand in which he had carried it against his own coat, to get rid of the feel of the discovered garment. “ Eb dear 1" And he stared at the coat, and went off into reverie. “ I reckon." he said after a. time, “ as he's been dead these ‘eara and ’enta. It feels as if he had been.” “ Yis, I do," sand George; but no man is insensxble to the feelings of other prople, and he hastened to add: “ I want to gl'e the young madam a good fright.” “ Yes. bit." said the huusekeeper in a loud- er tone; “ the pleeceman‘ll be here in a minute.” “ Oh, dear, yes,” said Mrs. Donne ; “ I’m agreeable. And it'll be nicer to have a. gen- Ilemau as won’t mind laying a bit; out on the land.” “ He’ll be a good tenant,” said the lawyer. “ Old Sir Sydney left him wonderfully well to -do, "11 things considered, and it’s been a fortune to him to find coal on the Stafford- " Well, I’m not certain,” said the man of business. " but Sir Sydney Chwston has got it into his head thabhe’d like to try his hand at farming, and he has commissioned me to look out for a farm for him. I shall make an offer of Quarrymoor, if you’re agreeable.” ” Do you knowkof anyfyody as ’11 take it?” asked Mrs. Donne. “ Well you knowI that’s as you like, of course, but I dare say you have heard that coal has jusl been proved on Hilly Piece‘ and that’s as good as proving it at Qumr) moor, Mrs. Donne. And, in point of fact, the land ’11 be worth five or six times what it was directly the new pits get. well to work. Rent, it out, by all means. since you want; to, but keep it in your own hands for a little time at. least. If I'm not very much miizulzakens there‘s abig fortune underneath, a bigger fornun than all the Dunnes ever got out of the surfaceâ€"long as they farmed it!" ” I can- find 57011 a. tenant in a week,” he answered her. “ But; unless I’m mistaken, it, won’t be a. farm much longer.” “ Not a farm 1" cried MIE. Donne. “ Why not? I couldn’t; abear to think of ms bein’ built over.” “ God bless you‘ !" answered Dinah, and so went her way. The Saracen’s doors were closed, the Saracen’s alfairs wore Wound up, Within a week of the ass 20 trial. Daniel held his head low for very shame, but on the aged a. blow of this kind sometimes falls with comparative lightness. It is not experience alone which enables age to bear its troubles easily. The old boat has gone out of the pulse, the heart is dulled to pain. Daniel none the less would get away from the scene of this disgrace. and to him also it was a grief to lay his bones among strangers. But he could no longer endure to live where every- body had known him. and where an honest; name had been his pride and boost so long. Mrs Donne’s luvgyer had news for hgr when she consulted him about the advisa- bility of parting with the farm. “ Oh,” said Dinah, “ lfyou go away, let me come wi’ you! No," she said a. mo ment later, through her tears, “ I shonld keep your trouble an’ your shame i’ your minds, an’ I’m best away. But if you’ll let me, I'lllook in to~morrow, an’ see how she is, poor thing.” “ It’s a and house to ask anybody to come to,” said Ethel’s mother. “ But come if you Will. an’ welcome. How does your father bear it ?” “ It’s broke his heart,” answered Dinah. ” He’ll never hold his head up any more.” If it seem strange that Mrs. Donne took George’s guilt for granted so early, you may remember that she took her cue from his sister, as she and the rest. of the world supposed Dinah to be. And Dinah had always the affair of the cash box in her mind, and at left everything Without need of proof. T e two women parted with a kiss. “ Yourn’s a worse trouble than ourn," said the yeuman‘s Widow. " God help you to bear it i” I‘here was aomebhingvin Dinah‘s face which repressed the tart answer on Mrs. Damie'a tongue. 7 _ “ You‘re i’ trouble as much as we be, my damn,” .nhe , answereirl wqgserjrpnple 1;th we be â€"â€"a.n' I’m sorry for you i‘ my hiaa‘rt. Come, an’ welcome ’,’ ‘ : “ We brought shame an’ sorrow to this house," said Dinah sadly, when Ethel was pun no bed and she was ready to go away again. “ But you won’t forbid me to come and see her to marrow will you? " Dinah was middle aged. and had sufiered a. great deal already. She did not faint, havmg still somebody left to endure for, but she put Ethel in a four-wheeled haekney coach and saw her home. For Mrs. Donne had been so enraged at the whole thing that she refused to accompany herdaughter on that terrible journey, or to have any part or lot in the matter. It is the way of women to show this curious injustice sometimes. by way of set-off tothe amazing iujustxce whini- they often do themselves. The mother did not, us‘ you may fancy, char :1 very friendly Welc true to the sister of the man who so shamefully Wrecked her household peace, and had left the firht blot upon the house she had ever heard of amongst all its homely legends. To have had stolen money in the houae and in her daughter’s hands X You may easily believe it to have been very bitter to the yeomen’s widow. who was hon- est, as all her forbeare had been, to the backbone. “ Uurn’â€"â€"“ ours "â€"hersâ€"wal the last John Audley Donne, the latest of a. long and hororable race; and she also must needs Weep a little to think that she and he might lie wide apart. “ The shame ain’t yonrn, my poor dear orestur,” said the yeomon'a widow, " not more than it’s oum. But I doubt me an' my poor gell ’ll be able to live here lenger. An‘ I did hope to lay my bones i’ Quarrymoor churchyard along of ourn’s.” Ethel, you will remember, fell into Dinah’s alms at that cruel charge her lover brought. against her. But she heard the words, and they came to mmd again afterwards. “ The child I bore» 1” groaned poor Dinah as she rose, and Ethel’s mind, too staggered and stunned to heed them at the time, recalled them later on. At ’this Dinah bioke into tears, the first she h_a.d shed that heavy day. So he went; 011- his way, curalike enough, and left hearts behind him to bleed and suffer amt the manner of his tribe. But when he cried out that Ethel also was in the lie against him, even his mother who had loved him so wiped him clean out of her heart, and left him _to his fate. It was hard to do, but it was yet more hard to have to doit. For she loved him yet‘ her eonâ€"scamo and hound ae he had provedâ€"still, still he was boneof her bone and flesh of her flesh, and he was Joe's son, and she had borne him and had gone in travail for him. There is but one divine being in the world, and it is motherhood and the motherly neiure, for they are one. - If Mr. George Banks had known every- thing, he might have held himself from that disgusted cry against the treason of his sweetheart. It was that cry which sealed his mother’s lips and kept the simple case of for- gerv from becoming in its way a cause celebra. It is somewhat curious to reflect on what would have happened had Dinah declared her secret in open 0 turt. For I have not the slightest doubt that if George had heard the story, he would have struck out for this new ark of refuge, and would have sworn through thick and thin that he had been aware of his own identity all along. I wae telling George's story over a pipe to a distingmshed DOthlSt, a friend of mine. last Saturday at a little convivial gathering, and the distinguish- ed novelistâ€"who is also a barrister ~~was a little puzzled at first sight to say what might have become of the prisoner had this revela- tion been made. He seemed firme of opin ion, however, that the onus would have lain upon old George, and that he would have found it very difficult indeed to prove that his grand nephew had not known the truth. In any case. it would have altered the face of things. If my opinion is of any value on a pomt which is not altogether technical, I venture to ofier it. Young George would still have be committed to take his trial at the aesizes. Old George would have been bound over to appear against him. Bail would have been found lot the criminal, a compromise about the fortune would have been arrived at, the old man would have for- feited his recognisances, and the younger scoundrel would have been shipped abroad somewhere with at least an ample supply of money in his pouch. And all this would have come to a man who had already consented to be a cut, if he had only refrained from going still lower in creation’s scale, and growing downwards into the aimilltudu of a snake. CHAPTER XlV. â€"An absent~minde€ .‘ I herself for the tea kettle water and sat down’on’t‘fit discovered her mistake m Some young men of Grafton, D. T.. had an idea. that the town was an excellent poipfi” for“ the banking business, and accordingly pooled ' in their surplus cash and formed a co . V ' Then they purchased the safe of the bank at Dubuque, Ia, . and ordered ' ' to them. The safe was suppose ’ 6,500 pounds, but in reality we of 13,000, and in required all the bank to pay the freight the young men are not. was and having secured their a ‘ lutely to work to earnu capital. l’ersevegan a world every time.â€"â€"â€"P [k “Solpieaume,” was the reply. "Bit nevar become intoxicated when you have buei- . mesa rto unend to. W111 you promise ?" “ Even undertakera, Judgeffike a «)ccasfinoqally,” ' “ By all that is dismajl," ‘Was {hé gravé yardy response. and then Mr. Spry quickly vanished around a. neighboring comet.â€" Btookiyu Eagle. The undertaker suddenly ceased to am! usaumed a very grave cast of countenance and said in 9. Greenwood whisper} To trust is to bust, To bust, is to trust No trust. no bust, ‘-' You said, I believe," continued his H3] or, “ that you had a licnle j b to utter: this afternoon. Now, knowing that this job merited your attention, why aid you come intoxicated lastrliight 7” " On another occasion, Judge, I was abou to tell the crowd to take the last fond 100 when a shrivelled up little man, with a muf fler around his eyes, beckoned me to go ove to him. ‘ Shure,’ says he ‘ never mind th meat bill, I’ll send it in receipted to marrow Newr forget Pat Murphy.’ I didn’t.” "Does your business pay 7" asked If}: court. “ It might, Judge. only people hang up t : undertaker with much more readiness eve than they hang up the tailor. So I haiv adopted as my mono the following nev ~ dying selection from the Iliad: “ Tn-at‘. is interesting,” asserted the a “ Truly you must have had some rema. experiences.” ‘f But yoti appear toba friéqtj.” remarked his Honor. " Never say die,” chuckled the prison and then he quickly added; “ No. Judge 1'1u16di Any-ade fl nut-mu uvxtu Ueeym " Your name is hardly consistent with! ibusinass," ventured the courz. “ I’m glad to meet you," said the con perfectly satisfied wnh the resul‘ of its 0 aervation : “ How do you find business, M spry ?" “ Weil,"replied the prisoner, as he twist up the corner of his left eye, “ you can half 1y say its blooming. This in a. healthy plat: and that you know, Judge. is bad for bps nesa. Why, when I was down in Jacksonwil a we used to stand on the pier and diam our cards among those who came as and we‘d be sure to have some dozen cal a. day or two â€"twenty and sometimps to; a week. Judge." ' ' W“ Why. yes, Judge. I was at arfuueral ~45 Park avenue one day. The family was poo The minister had been giving them Home 1:31 about; being rich in spirit, although poor 5 purse,when aiittle fal; woman Whom I ha never seen before. called me to one side an said : " Take it ; take it, and may the Lot bring you more. I’ve owed it to your wif for these ten years.” It was 3530, Judge {5. which the old lady felt bound to tip up, unde, fl the inspiraiion of the funeral sermon.’_’ - 5,? Personal Reminischncee of the Dlfl’eren Between Work and Play. “ That is my card, Judge. Y‘lll will a ' that I am a. man of good standing in- I” . community.” It read: “ Ezekiel Spryâ€"Undertaker.” 7‘ Judge Walsh put the card in his nook“- future reference, and than contemplated " ' ' sprightly individual who stood bcfore ' His cheeks were red With the bloomof :- there was a merry twinkle in his little bro eygg‘ and a smile on his face that deemed tell of a disposition cheexful to the Inlet d nee. A heavy watch fob dangled from h vest and adiamond ring sparkled 011- h little finger. lx ‘. ~r-J “0.--...0 .. “ The general public, Judge. don’t seem f , mark the distinction between an undertali on business and (an undertaker at leisu They think he should be always funereal his aspect and demeanor. Now, at the par last night I want; through the waltz with I; utmost grace, and was the life of a gay an pleasant company. This aftâ€"pardon, tbi afternoonâ€"I am to manage alime job on-th' Hill, and I venture to say that by my aoleml ‘ appearance and grime hearing, I will ‘ taken for one of the most, deeply uflicted :1" the family.” ‘ 4;“ Have you ever had such an experience , “ My name is Spry.” was the reapod “ but. I’m a. regular Uriah Heep who business, and I tell you, Judge, I have a. ‘ vet fool: when I go into the house of man: mg; . " The court peeped over the bench and ,no ticcd the prisoner‘s No. 11 shoes, While ‘ Spry_continut=d : Of course, neither Mrs. Donne nor E were at this time much in the mood to enj an accession of fortune, immediate or remu They were driven from home by shame, a had little care to think about monetary pr Deriiies. 01d Daniel was driven away ale and four people who seemed rooted to 1: soil they were born on. went away toget and took one and the same goal. Trou had brought Dinah and E hel close togetn and had made them fast friends. [To BE CONTINUEDJ he found him impenitenu and Mul’jmfiifl the young man. though more than ha‘. accxdent, adopted a Wiser method, an Burned a virtue though he had it not, in ' ation of the chaplaiu’s influence. Now, this was cruel for George. W right had a. felon to anything? An he had fairly won the money wk; would have saved him, and his culations had been sound after all, for that one abominable accident which tripped him up and maimed him for ever 1 forever. Wuen the prison chaplain tak‘ to George about the enormity of his ofl i “ I see a. telegram message half an ht ago.”su1dthe idle warder. “ Erebus is fixatLgny bAoy.”r V This was news indeed, and really an heimps. It was Burp how poor young George was bufi‘e wings of the unattainable. He ha. blow ye§ to leei, but another,almost as had already fallen. “Well,” said the other ; “ fihe news is. one thing, a‘sryou owe me two and a tann “ Oh,"vsaidime barber wardeflréaspendi the acticn of the shears, “ and what ,mi. that be for ?” v '7” Well, he‘s won, whatevér you’dkl bet,” said the idle warden with a. little lau You‘ll see it for yourself in the morni‘ papers? I shire property, of course. He can : spends. thousandpr two on high farm: wants to.” ‘ “ 1 know there in," the lawye: " as well as if I’d been there. year or two. Mm. Donne, and fortune in it.” h What‘s the neévs 7" ahkad ungbfiéaifi George’s well gloomed locks fell beneath ashvarfl. V “ Well, I in blowed l” fiesponded the bl her, pausing to look at his oompauio‘ heft he fell to work again. “ I’d ha’ bet has! again’ him.” ' “ Au’you think there’s coal und moog? ” inquired Mrs. Donne. i 11 was fuur o’clock on the afternoon of‘ trial. and ha was under the hands of a ha} who worea be}: and carried a bunch of L M; it. Another man. who also wore a with ubunch of keys as it, stood by the WI FREIGHT BILLS IN DAKOTA. AN UNDERTAKER’S SPREB. proaperiqg,