we call "the poor." After all, manners are the expression of the nature of the man; and consideration for others, quiet self-possession, tact and courtesy, the essentials of a gentleman (which is indeed our shorthand expression for these qualities combined), are to be found among them oflen to perfection, particularly in the country.

"We heerd as yer had Martha now to live with yer, uncle," said Cassie.

Well," said the old man, "I thowt on it; she's coming next week for to stop. She's a bit over petticklar, but she's wonderful industrious; and 'tis so dull wi'out a woman for to bang about and to fend for me. I want to speak to thee, Cassie," added he, drawing her into the empty cheese-room, which looked drearier than ever, with its riches swept away.

"I were hard on thee, child, t'other time. I dunna know as thou couldst ha' done less for thy feyther but lend him the money when he'd all that coil. Arter all he were thy feyther; and so now wilt thou come and live wi' me, and be a child to me in my old age, and I will leave thee a' I have when I go?

"I wunna leave Lyddy," said Cassie, stoutly. "Thank ye kindly a' the same, uncle. She and I is one. I'll not return from following arter her; where she goes I will go, and where she dies I will die," said the girl with a passion of affection that made her voice tremble, and her rich brown cheek warm with colour and her eyes bright with tears. It was beautiful to see her, and even the philosophy of Nathan the wise was not proof against it.

"You'd make a rare loving wife, my wench, you would," he said, admiringly.

The poor girl's eyes filled with tears as she murmured something about not being any man's wife, and then asked some unintelligible question about Roland.

"No; I hanna heerd nowt about him sin' I gin un a recommend for Liverpool. He went off wi' that old raskil Joshuay; but thee's better forget a' about his father's son," said the old man. "Well, good-by, my lass, and ye'll come to me an ye be in trouble. I'd ha' liked sorely for to ha'e had thee for my own," he added, clearing his throat. "Good-by, Lyddy. I shall come and see yer again once ye're settled," he called ont as he passed through the kitchen once more. "Eh, dearie me, to be sure, who'd ha' thought it? It's a sorry sight!" repeated Nathan, shaking his head dolefully as he went out at the door again.

"What did he come for, Cassie, all in such a hurry?" said Lydia, anxiously, as the girl came slowly back.

"Axe me no questions and I'll tell thee no lies," answered she, with a laughing caress.

"I know he did,

Think on it agin. I
Why shouldst thou

"He came to axe thee go wi' him," Lydia went on. and thou hast given it up because o' me, my darlin'. can fend for German, and belike too he may marry. what's for thy good wi' thinkin' o' me?" "I was na' thinking o' thee one bit," said Cassie gaily (it was the first

fling

away

time Lydia had seen the poor girl smile for months). "I were just a thinkin' o' mysen. Martha Savage 'ud be a sore un to live with. Sure life's better nor house or land, and 'tis life to live wi' thee and German. Thou shaltna get shut on me so," she added with a kiss.

Lydia shook her head lovingly at her, and said no more.

The little cart was soon laden; the old squire had been substantially kind to them, had found a small cottage in the valley below and given them any furniture they chose to take away, the old cow and a pig. The melancholy little party set off, German in front leading the horse, the cart built up with the "bits o' things "—which look so pathetic-of an uprooted household. Then came Cassie driving the cow and carrying a basket with her own particular laying hen; and lastly, Lydia, with certain brittle articles which the ruts made it impossible to convey otherwise in safety. It was a dull, gloomy day: a thick mist almost blotted out the landscape, and was nearly as wet as rain. Silently they turned away from the old pillared gateway and the old grey house, which looked as mournful as if it felt the desertion, and the only sound heard was the squeaking of the little pig in a hamper at the top of the cart, which lamented its departure with loud squeals, answered from the farmyard by the cries of the bereaved mother growing fainter and more faint in the distance. Not a word was spoken by any of them till they reached their future home in the small scattered hamlet below. It stood apart on the side of the hill, in the space formed by a little quarry, out of which the house had been built. On the other side was a steep terraced garden supported by a high wall looking down to the green croft in which it was set. Before the door grew two or three sycamores-the tree which flourishes best in these hills the tops of which are mostly bare and ugly, while vegetation creeps down the valleys following the course of the streams.

"And thou'lt set slips o' things and have a garden, dearie ?" said Lydia, looking round. "Sure 'tis a nice quiet pleasant place."

The two women got work to do at home from one of the small mills which were beginning to take the place of the home-spinning, and to rise on even obscure "water privileges ;" and German easily found a place as cowkeeper to a farmer near. It was a peaceful life. The descent in dignity fell heaviest on poor German, the women scarcely felt it at all; they hardly dared to acknowledge, even to themselves, the relief it was to live under their own roof-tree with none to make them afraid. Still as time went on, with no tidings of Roland, Cassie's heart grew sick with a longing desire for a word or a sign, and her cheeks grew pale with watching and waiting in vain.

THE

CORNHILL MAGAZINE.

SEPTEMBER, 1867.

The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly.

CHAPTER XIII.

AT THE COTTAGE.

"And what are all these fine preparations for ? You are deckMEE ing out your room as if for a village fête," said he, not moving from his place nor heeding her request.

"I fancy that young Frenchman who was here last night," said she, saucily, "would have responded to my invitation if I had asked him to hold the chair I was standing on."

"I've no doubt of it," said he, gravely. "Frenchmen are vastly more gallant than we are."

VOL. XVI.-NO. 93.

13.