solicitude for her welfare. She took him much into her confidence, and let him understand some of the difficulties consequent upon the clash of his father's fine intentions with his ill-considered judgments. She even told the boy of the heavy debts his father had left behind him-both legal claims and debts of honour; and of her present difficulty in arranging them because the property was already so much encumbered. She explained something of her own losses to Horatio, told of Lord Walrond's comparative poverty, and of her inability to trespass further on their grandfather Blakistonbury's generosity. She was resolved never in future to accept any income from her mill, though it was already rebuilding. But, with rigid economy, she hoped they could in a few years pay off everything.

"Madam mother," Horatio had said, "I am now nearly a man, and I shall take all these debts upon myself. 'Twould be a plaguy nuisance for a lady of your breeding to have affairs of this mean sort on your hands."

Nay, my son," she had replied, embracing him, "" between us, we

"Madam," he interrupted with an air of finality like his grandfather Walrond's, "these obligations are mine! Please make old Cornroach serve me with a complete list of them."

The mother yielded, even though the debts put fresh strain upon Horatio's veneration of his father's memory. And it was largely because of his new sense of responsibility that the elder boy had pressed his and Walter's need to carry to Bodmin the pardons.

But Lady Evangeline had duties more important. Christopher Trevenna's lost lambs had been found and nursed back into health, and must with no more delay be restored to their owners.

So the two boys, accompanied by Mr. Cornroach and the King's messenger, travelled as fast as horse-flesh

X

and money made possible and reached Bodmin twelve hours before the time of Luke's execution. Charity and his brothers, with his mother and father were with him, when the two lads came shouting at the grating of their cell's door.

"The King's pardon, Master Luke! The King's pardon! You are all free for ever now, Captain Kellinack!" Walter cried in huge excitement.

The gaoler threw open the door. Walter was first within and immediately began to shake Charity's hand violently up and down and desisted only to hug her; but she dropped upon the floor as though her heart at last must break. Horatio prayed the men not to leave the cell till he had had one word most private for their ears-and quite alone. The King's messenger and Mr. Cornroach, as if accepting the elder boy as master of the situation, left without demur.

You also, Mistress Cherry," said Horatio with official privilege.

Walter, go too, brother-and take care of Mother Kellinack-just for one minute."

As soon as Horatio was alone with the four men, he closed the door deliberately and turned to them:

"Gentlemen," he said, white and austere, with but the least tremor in his voice," this will be as happy a day to me as to yourselves, if you will lift from my heart a debt nearly as great as what to-morrow was to exact from Master Luke. My father is dead."

He paused with a sudden catch in his breath, then added rapidly :

"I pray you forgive the lieutenant who swore an untruth and hanged your Benjamin. The burden of that crime Captain Kellinack is . . . is breaking my heart! My father's debts . . . because I do so adore his greatness of heart in other thingsdo you know he risked his life for a private artilleryman, and the King thanked him for that service to his royal self?-my father's debts are all my own till

I get quits with everybody . . . but I would crave your forgiveness of this lieutenant's debt to you . . . even as . . as the King has forgiven your smuggling trespasses I can never The lieutenant did not

But here the boy broke down and turned from them into the darkest corner of the cell, silently shaken with sobs. With one impulse the men were about him.

Young sir," said Captain Kellinack, "us du owe more than our lives to your brave lady Mother and to her two boys. I know, young sir, like so's I seen it all 'fore me, as how ye'd 'a' rixed yer life for to save me an' my boys here. 'Cordin'ly, us ain't got no choice but forgive that lewtenant; ther' must 'a' bin a ship-load o' good in he if his boys stand up for un like thicky here an' take up his debts for to squar' 'em. Iss, sure! 'Tis your hand, what us wants to shake, mate, and then us'll cry quits-an' God 'a' mussy on all, and forgive us our trespasses ag'in Him!"

TH

CHAPTER XLII

THE LAMBS COME HOME

HERE was now great rejoicing in Mullinstow. But the rain still fell; and one with a bigger capacity for joy than any of his people was left alone. Yet his eyes often turned so bright beneath his heavy eyebrows that Martha on her knees fairly harangued the Almighty on the score of His responsibility should her master be sickening for fits or the jarnders. Yet his words and smile let her know he was beyond her understanding. His church duties, whether as stonemason or joiner or wood-carver or preacher, demanded more energy than ever before; and his sermons, though he had no pulpit-" a fortress from which to attack without fear of reprisals "-gained in the penetration of his arrowy words. Yet he had never touched such loneliness before.

"Martha," he said, "when the good St. Neot leaves me, I shall go and preach to the moor-stones. Will you keep house for me by some ruin of a holy well?

"Iss, sure!" was the woman's unhesitating assent to the enigmatic request.

"Shall it be Carn Brea Castle?" he continued. 'And following Mr. Wesley's lead, shall I, without a church, preach the Gospel in highways and hedges, at the mines and villages?" That, I think, your conscience would allow ? "

"Iss, sure, my master!"

response.

was her wondering

The weeks passed by and gathered into months. Lady Evangeline's burns were healed and she was able to write again. Her letters were always intimate, sometimes with touches of tenderness the more convincing that she was freeing herself of her too literary style. She was detained at Welton by her father's illness: he had suffered an apoplectic seizure and was not expected to recover. The mansion in Golden Square was dismantled, and now she had no home in London. The little apprentices were growing strong, and only a few of those who had survived their ill-usage were really the worse for it. Horatio and Walter were growing manlier in their outlook on life. Horatio's letters, so she wrote, were full of boyish ardour and masterful responsibility. "I am fully persuaded," she added, "that without your wise whippings of my conventionbound heart, I could never so fully have trusted the natural bonds wherewith God has united the mother's love with her offspring's hunger. No sons ever honoured their mother, nor loved her, more than these; and for this, dear Friend, I never cease to thank you as my schoolmaster."

In an earlier letter she had given Mr. Trevenna news that was wonderful. One day with six or seven of her flock she was visiting a sick baby; and as they left the cottage, there came limping on three legs from the wood-shed a black and gaunt, long-tailed dog, who followed her. So sad and apathetic was he that she failed at first to see it was Watchman; but upon her asking him if that was his name, he broke into lavish demonstrations of delight. Then he had returned to the shed, yet only to come back quickly and now carrying in his mouth a ground-ash staff! This he still persisted in cherishing, allowing no one, not even herself, to touch it. So Lady Evangeline was convinced it must be his master's property. She would find means before long, she added, for restoring the noble creature to him. Some one would surely see