Genre - Romance. You are on the page - 12

next, and if further pursued by legal process there, to step into a third.A highwayman, at the beginning of the century in which we live, who honoured Kinver with residing in it, planted his habitation at the extreme verge of the county, divided from the next by a hollow way, and when the officers came to take him, he leaped the dyke, and mocked them with impunity from the farther side. But this was not all. The geological structure of the country favoured them. Wherever a cliff, great or

she said, and withdrew her hands from his shoulders. The faces of both were now gazing straight on over the gold-flecked slope before them. "Go on, you are a man. I know you will not turn back from what you undertake. You will not change, you will not turn--because you cannot. You were born to earn and not to own; to find, but not to possess. But as you have lived, so you will die.""You give me no long shrift, mother?" said the youth, with a twinkle in his eye. "How can

on that snow-shrouded lake was in distress. The sound ceased, and the gale bore in only the ordinary storm and fog signals. Corvet recognized the foghorn at the lighthouse at the end of the government pier; the light, he knew, was turning white, red, white, red, white behind the curtain of sleet; other steam vessels, not in distress, blew their blasts; the long four of the steamer calling for help cut in again.Corvet stopped, drew up his shoulders, and stood staring out toward the lake, as the

tle court the country came creeping close up to thetown. There were fields not so far away on these long highways.Wandering and rambling roads ran off to the westward and to the north,leading toward the straight old Roman road which once upon a time randown to London town. Ill-kept enough were some of the lanes, with theirhedges and shrubs overhanging the highways, if such the paths could becalled which came braiding down toward the south. One needed not to gofar outward beyond Sadler's Wells

was dark. So he sat down upon a stone and buried his face in his hands, to wait in the Land of Negation and Denial till the light came.And it was night in his heart also. Then from the marshes to his right and left cold mists arose and closed about him. A fine, imperceptible rain fell in the dark, and great drops gathered on his hair and clothes. His heart beat slowly, and a numbness crept through all his limbs. Then, looking up, two merry wisp lights came dancing. He lifted his head to look at

familiar friendship, of some half-dozen whiskered cubs, having what is technically called the run of the house. No! it was a repository for feeling and for memory, and, in its fair pages, presented an image of Emily's heart. Many of these were marked, it is true; and what human being's character is unchequered? But it was blotless; and the virgin page looks not so white as when the contrast of the sable ink is there.Clarendon read aloud his first contribution--who knows it not? The very words