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This was one of the very rare occasions on which the speaker had been known to make an ungenerous allusion to the mother of her sister.

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Madam," said Elizabeth, sinking once more upon her knee; "punish me not for the slanders of mine enemies—it is your place, as the fountain of all justice and honor, to protect me from them—but judge my disinclination to accept the gracious offer of your majesty for my unworthy hand to its true motive-the resolution I have made to lead a single life! I shall never love!"

Mary smiled bitterly, and pronounced the name of Seymour-alluding, of course, to the high admiral, the first lover of the princess.

"I have been foully wronged!" replied the princess; "the admiral was nothing more to me than

friend !"

"Arundel?” added the queen.

"A fool who deceived himself?"

"And Courtney?"

a

severe restraint which he placed upon the princess.
No one was permitted to have access to her person
without his special warrant; and when, after seve-
ral weeks' close captivity, he permitted his prisoner
to walk in the gardens of Woodstock, the doors were
carefully locked-sentinels placed at regular inter-
vals, with orders to allow no stranger to approach.
The sequel proved that the stern old knight was ac-
tuated by better and more generous motives than
the mere pleasure of oppressing the enemy of his
church, the Protestant heiress of the kingdom.

The health of Mary was already failing. Gardi-
ner, whose enmity to Elizabeth was increased by
the dread he felt at the possibility of her accession,
repeatedly urged on the council the necessity of
bringing her to trial. Paget and others of his party
expressed the same opinion: to all of which, how-
ever, the queen turned a deaf ear. When it is re-
membered how little cause she had to love her rival
-whose birth had stamped her own with illegiti-

"A relative," said Elizabeth, "for whom I was macy—the character of the sovereign whom history bound to pray!"

-an

"I am tired of this paltering with my willswer me at once!" said Mary; "do I see before me a sister whom I can take to my heart and love, as the bride of the Prince of Savoy, or a contumacious traitor, plotting against my crown?"

“A royal subject, and a true sister!" answered the princess, in a firm tone, although her features were pale as she pronounced the words; "but not

the bride of Philibert !"

The queen, with a look of terrible anger, struck upon the bell in an instant the captain of the guard, Sir Henry Beddingfield, the chamberlain, and the chancellor, entered the apartment: there was an expression of curiosity in every counten

ance.

Sir Henry," said Mary, with dreadful calmness, "conduct the Lady Elizabeth to Woodstock, and hold her close prisoner until further orders! We need not recommend you to be careful of your ward -for we have proved your fidelity to our crown and person! You will dismiss her household!" she added, "and see that none have access to her, but on our especial warrant !"

has branded as cruel, bloodthirsty, and bigoted, con-
trasts favorably with that of her successor, who, in
her murder of the unfortunate Queen of Scots, dis-
played an amount of hypocricy and vindictiveness,
which must for ever tarnish her memory.

Gardiner was seated in his cabinet, towards the
close of the month of June: he had that very day
been unsuccessful in urging upon his royal mistress
the topic nearest his heart-and failed; more been

severely chidden for his excess of zeal. The rebuff
had but decided in his own mind his half-settled

purpose.

"She must die!" he muttered. "What is the

"He has, my lord."

"Left he any letter, packet, or measage!" "He merely bid me say, my lord, that the thing you wish was easy of accomplishment, and that he would return in two hours,"

"When was this?"

"About one hour since, my lord."

"When he comes," replied the prelate, after a pause," conduct him at once to my cabinet. And, as the affair I have to transact with him is one of importance, see that we are not interrupted." Francis bowed.

"Take good heed also," continued the speaker, "that he is seen by none of my household. I have my reasons for wishing his visits here to remain unknown to all.”

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"Save you?" observed the churchman, suspiciously.

"And I," meekly replied the priest, "have neither ears nor eyes, but as you bid me use them. The reverend general of the order, when he sent me from Rome to assist your lordship in these matters, gave me but one direction."

"And what was that?" demanded Gardiner, with a slight expression of curiosity.

"Obedience to your commands," said the young man; "implicit obedience-life, will, judgment, in

dividuality, and reason, exist only as you bid me exercise them! A word and they are annihilated."

The priest was a Jesuit: one of that order whose influence encircled the earth, the more dangerous from being unseen. The Order of Jesus cares little for outward pomp or dignity-it is content to make itself felt.

life of the heretic daughter of a heretic king, weighed
The dark intriguer waved his hand, and the
in the balance against the interests of Rome, the
salvation of a kingdom, and the safety of its minis- cabinet. No eastern despot could have dismissed
speaker disappeared as silently as he entered the
ters? Mary is doomed to be a childless woman; his slave with less ceremony from his presence than
she cannot long survive, and, failing Elizabeth, the the scheming prelate did the priest: he knew,
Queen of Scots succeeds! She, at least, is Catho-whether for good or evil, that his power was un-
lic: and the people will soon be reconciled to her
foreign husband. Would that she had chosen any
but a Frenchman!"

These and similar reflections crowded on the busy

So saying, she left the apartment, without deign-brain of the churchman, as he continued to pace the ing to cast a look upon her stiil kneeling sister, who faintly murmured, as she disappeared: 66 Lost-lost!"

CHAPTER XXVI.

narrow limits of the chamber. He was too astute
not to perceive the weakness of the arguments by
which he was attempting to justify to himself the

crime he meditated.

"It must be done!" he repeated; "necessity and the motive sanctify the crime, and holy church has an absolving power."

limited over him.

66

Strange order!" he murmured, as soon as he was alone; "whose sovereignty is in the mind-whose sceptre the will of its subjects—whose agents the passions of mankind! Had Ignatius lived a century earlier, Rome had not been shaken on her seven crowned hills-the pestilent breath of heresy would have been stifled-and England, Catholic in heart, as she is still in name! And shall be in heart again!" he added, striking his clenched hand upon the table. "What is the life of a girl-a king's daughter though she be-compared with the safety or the inWith this convenient reflection, he seated him-terests of Rome? Should we fail? Impossible!" self at a table placed near the quaintly-carved chimney, and struck, with a small metal rod, not unlike IR HENRY BEDDINGFIELD seems to have a baton, upon a bell, suspended in an oaken frame been perfectly aware of the importance of his near him. The arras which covered the door of the charge, and how deeply his honor would be ques-apartment was drawn aside, and a young man, in tioned if any evil befel the person of Elizabeth the costume of a priest, made his appearance. His whilst in his keeping: perhaps, also, he was no countenance bore the pale, ascetic expression, pestranger to the machinations of Gardiner and the culiar to the Catholic clergy; motionless as a statue heads of the Catholic party, who saw no hope of he stood, with his arms folded meekly upon his breast, their faith being permanently established in Eng- at a short distance from the table, awaiting the orders land, if once the daughter of Anne Boleyn suc- of the bishop. ceeded to the crown.

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"Francis,” said Gardiner. " has the person who, during the last week, twice visited me, been here to-night?"

Several times he repeated the word "fail" to himself-for he was one who saw as far as most men into the future. He had noticed on more than one occasion that Elizabeth had regarded him with a look which reminded him of her father, when he signed the death-warrant of the virtuous Fisher, upon whom the Pope had vainly bestowed the dignity of cardinal, in the hope that Henry would respect it. But the lustful tyrant merely observed, when he heard of it, that although the Pope might bestow a hat, it should not interfere with his claim to the head.

Gardiner remembered with what terrible punctuality he kept his word; and Elizabeth, if she suc

ceeded to the crown, seemed very likely to follow his services of others, who may feel as little inclined to example.

At the end of an hour the tapestry was again raised, and Father Francis appeared at the door of the cabinet.

risk their necks on my promise as I am upon your lordship's: if we had a token from the queen," he added, "the affair would be different."

Gardiner did not wish to revert to that subject: "He has arrived," he said, in a calm tone-rising from his seat, he advanced to a strong oaken although he knew perfectly well that the purpose for cabinet at the extreme end of the chamber, which which the visitor whom he announced sought the opened with a look of peculiar construction, the key presence of the churchman, was nothing less than to of which he wore constantly suspended by a chain concert a plan of cowardly assassination. round his neck. The great seal of England was kept by him in the same repository. The eyes of Basset followed him with an eager expression: he would have given ten years of his life at that moment for a rumage in the chancellor's repository-especially when he saw that it was filled with sacks of coin, each one carefully sealed with the prelate's signet, and labelled.

Admit him, and leave us," were the orders of the prelate, who found himself directly afterwards têteà-tete with a hard-featured, dissipated-looking man about forty years of age, whose dress, although somewhat worn, and not in the most becoming fashion, denoted that its wearer had the station of a gentleman.

"So Basset," said the churchman, "you have considered of my proposal, anent which we have several times spoken together?"

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"If I had only some token of her majesty's pleasure," said the adventurer-for such his folly and extravagance had reduced him to.

"Token!" interrupted the chancellor; "thou art mad to dream of such a thing! Where would be the need of an instrument of her will, such as thou art, if the queen could give her mind to give a token

of it? What would her sign manual to the Lady

Elizabeth's death-warrant be but a token? and has she not the headsman? It is because she will give no token that thou art employed. Reflect: thou art

not only in debt, but steeped in poverty to the very lips; a beggar no less in estate than in reputation."

“There are three hundred pieces," said the churchman, placing two heavy bags in his hands, fresh from the royal mint; "the rest of thy guerdon shall be paid thee when thou hast earned it."

The wretch eagerly clutched the gold, and after weighing it in his hand, he dropped one bag into each of the side pockets under the arm-holes of his faded velvet cloak.

"Now," said his employer, closing the cabinet, "tell me thy project!"

"I shall proceed at once to Woodstock, in company with one Chillingworth, a resolute fellow, who served under the emperor in Italy.”

"Is he of our far?" demanded Gardiner. "Staunch my lord. I remember, at the sacking of Rome, he cut down a Lutheran soldier who had taken a golden chalice from the sanctuary of St. Peter. He was disgusted to see the consecrated vessel of the church in such ungodly hands."

"Did he restore it?" inquired the churchman. There was a scarcely perceptible smile playing for an instant round the corners of Basset's mouth, as he made answer, "that he could not vouch for that."

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“And to himself by keeping the spoil," observed his hearer; "I appreciate the difference. But "The outcry," observed Basset, "will be fear-away?" he continued, "I have no time to prate upon such matters now. When do you propose to start for Woodstock?"

ful."

"What needest thou care? Long ere the deed can become known, thou wilt be safe in the Low "With the dawn, my lord!" was the reply. Countries, under the protection of the Emperor "Stint not the gold, nor spare your men! See Charles." that you are numerous enough for Beddingfield's "True," said the man reflectingly; " and the guards. He is a precise, mawkish fellow, who has no true love to the church or to our royal mistress, or he might have spared both her majesty and the When it is done, council much embarrassment. return at once to London : I will have a vessel ready to convey you and your accomplices to the Netherlands."

sum ?"

"A thousand pounds!" eagerly urged the prelate. "It is a bargain my lord," exclaimed the ruffian; "but I must have something more than your promise for the payment."

"Dost doubt me?"

"My knowledge of the world has taught me to doubt every man until I have proved him. It is a hard lesson, but sooner or later we all arrive at the same conclusion; besides, I shall have to engage the

"To a prison there!" he muttered to himself, as Basset left the cabinet. "He must not live to tell the tale of my dishonour! I may trust him to the keeping of the Emperor Charles."

AB

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Shall I become a common stabber? take A hireling's pay to cut the throats Of wretches while they sleep? OLD PLAY. BOUT six miles from the little town of Woodstock stood a solitary hostel, known by the sign of Fair Rosamond, whose portrait, painted by the hand of some itinerant artist, swung from the lofty sign-post erected on the little knoll in front of the porch. The artist had made the hair of the celebrated mistress of Henry as shining and yellow as the broad pieces which Miles Max, the avaricious old host, loved to count. The house was chiefly frequented. by pack-carriers and merchants, on their journey between London and Oxford.

The household consisted, first of the landlord himself, next his wife-a bustling dame-his daughter Mabel, and two female servants. A nephew, who was supposed to be no cold admirer of the pretty Mabel, officiated as tapster. He had a boy under him, whom Miles, as he always stated, had taken to his house through charity; though, considering the various drudgeries the lad performed, the charity of his master must have been rather profitable than otherwise to him. The long oaken table in the kitchen was already spread with bowls of furmety, and savoury messes of pork and beef-the former dressed with prunes, a favorite dish in those days— when a party of twelve persons, well mounted, rode up to the house, and began calling, in a loud, insolent tone, for the landlord, or some one to take their horses. The packmen, who were gathered in the kitchen, ready for supper, appeared anything but delighted with the prospect of such an addition to their company. Bodies of lawless men still roved about the country, taking tithe of honest industry in a most unseemly fashion. More than one of the travellers began to look to their arms; the elders to consider how they could best conceal their well-filled purses-for most of them were on their way to London, to purchase goods suited to the Oxford market.

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'Rare roysters," observed one. "For my part, I could well dispense with such company."

"And I also," added another. "They resemble, more than is agreeable, the description of the men who waylaid and robbed Mark Lumley, the rich hosier of Cheapside on his return from Norwich fair."

"What! ho! tapster! host! knaves!" roared the leader of the horsemen; is it thus you keep men who ride on the queen's business, waiting like beggars at the gate? Ho, I say!"

The speaker who was no other than Bassetand a party of ruffians engaged by him as auxiliaries in the desperate business he was concerned in, continued to roar lustily for the landlord and tapster. The former, however, was far toe wary a personage to trust himself within reach of his riding-staff. He had met with many such customers before.

"Go, Reuben," he said to his nephew; "tell them that the house is full; that we expect the arrival of my Lord of Arundel-of any one-only rid me of them, in the saint's name."

"I'll do my best, uncle," said the young man, whose manner and speech denoted that he had been better reared than to serve all his days as tapster at the sign of the Fair Rosamond. "It is a shame the

government does not take strong measures, and rid landlord, they so far overcame his objections, that he the country of such extortioners."

"Hush, boy! hush!"

The youth, with no very satisfied air, advanced to the leader of the party, to endeavor, if possible, to induce him to ride on; for they had hitherto found, to their cost, that such customers were anything but profitable. Before Reuben could speak, Basset, irritated at having been kept bawling so long, struck the young man sharply over the shoulders with his riding staff.

"That is to teach thee," he said, "to keep thy betters waiting!"

The blood rushed to the countenance of the tapster, and his dark, intelligent eye flashed with passion. Catching up a stable-fork which was standing near to the sign-post, he returned the assault by a blow which made the bullying ruffian reel in

his saddle.

"And that," replied the youth, "is to teach thee that Englishmen are not to be beaten like curs at the caprice of every ruffian whose only claim to be considered a gentleman is his sword!"

With a fearful oath, Basset drew his weapon, and wheeling his horse round, rushed upon the speaker -who, nowise daunted, continued to retreat towards the house; still keeping his enemy at bay with the stable fork.

ordered Reuben to conduct the horses of the party -most of whom had by this time dismountedround the back of the house to the stables.

"I will precede you," he said to Basset," and make it right with my guests, who, to speak the truth, entertain no very excellent opinion of you and your friends."

"Take us for free riders, eh?" observed the agent of Gardiner, with a chuckle.

Miles grinned in the affirmative.

When the landlord entered the kitchen, he had no small difficulty in pacifying the packmen and traders, several of whom declared their intention of passing the night in the neighboring village, rather than under the same roof with the new comers.

"They are honest men, I can assure you,” replied the host, apologetically, "or I would not admit them their leader has given me proof of that. You need not doubt my word: methinks I have as much to lose by the contrary as any of you."

The strangers soon afterwards entered, and, seating themselves at the table, commenced a furious onslaught upon the good dame's supper; still, as there was nothing absolutely offensive or hostile in their manner, the traders gradually joined them, and the conversation soon afterwards became general. Confidence was still further strengthened amongst the habitual frequenters of the house, by the readi

Basset and his companions for wine. The best of his cellar was unhesitatingly set before them.

The landlord and packmen, alarmed by the cries of the hostess and her daughter-the latter a blue-ness with which the host answered the calls of eyed Saxon-complexioned girl, who evidently took a deep interest in her cousin ran from the house, armed with such weapons as they could lay their hands on.

Seeing that the numbers were nearly equal, and not wishing to call the attention of the authorities to his being in that part of the country, Basset was the first to propose a truce.

"With all my heart!" said Reuben. "Let him sheath his sword, and I will lay down my stablefork!"

The terms were agreed upon, and executed accordingly.

"And now," said the ruffian, "I would speak with the landlord of the hostel. Methinks he shows but scant courtesy to worshipful guests who leave the God-penny with him."

Miles Max advanced, and assured the speaker that he had not a room in the house disengaged; but added, by way of consolation for the disappointment, that there was a house four miles further on the road towards Oxford, kept by a widow and her three daughters, where he could he entertained, to say the least, respectably, if not as well as at the Fair Rosamond.

"I must stay here!" said Basset, resolutely.
“Impossible!” was the unmoved reply of mine

host.

"I tell thee that I must! I am waiting for a number of my men to join me here-this is our place of rendezvous. Be reasonable, Miles Max, and thou shalt have little cause to quarrel with thy guests; as for thy malapert tapster, he is safe from my anger at least for the present," he added, in an under-tone.

Whatever additional arguments the speaker addueed, it appears they were sufficient; for, after a few minutes of whispered conversation with the

After

They knew him to be a prudent man. Reuben was engaged in the kitchen, when Simon Roach, a respectable trader, who, for many years, had frequented the hostel, entered the room. carefully looking round the place, to see that they were alone, he demanded of the young man, of whose discretion and honesty he entertained a much better opinion than of his uncle's, where the captain was to sleep.

"In the chamber above the porch," answered the youth with a look of surprise.

"Art sure?"

"I heard my aunt direct Mabel to prepare it." "I think," said Simon, "there is a kindness between thee and thy cousin; nay, speak freely-I am no tale-bearer!"

"There is," said Reuben, modestly. "And her father?"

"Seeks a wealthy husband for my pretty cousin."

"Follow my advice, and he shall be only too happy to bestow her upon thee !" whispered the old

trader. "I can make thee rich."

"Honestly?" demanded the young tapster. 'Honestly!"

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The answer was met by the single, but not unim portant query-" How?”

"At night," continued Simon, "climb to the window of the room, and note what passes in his chamber; or place thyself in some situation where thou mayest overhear his words-for I feel assured that he will not be long alone there! Report them to me in the morning, and thy fortune is made !"

"I'll do it!" said the youth, resolutely; and, without another word, his visitor left the kitchen.

(To be continued.)

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THE LITTLE MOLES

WHE

BY CHARLES MACKAY.

HEN grasping tyranny offends,
Or angry bigots frown;
When rulers plot for selfish ends
To keep the people down;
When statesmen form unholy league
To drive the world to war;
When knaves in palaces intrigue
For ribbons or a star:

We raise our heads, survey their deeds
And cheerily reply-
Grub, little moles, grub under ground
There's sunshine in the sky

When canting hypocrites combine
To curb a free man's thought,
And hold all doctrine undivine

That holds their canting nought;
When round their narrow pale they plod,
And scornfully assume

That all without are cursed of God,
And justify the doom:

We think of Heaven's eternal love,
And strong in hope reply-
Grub, little moles, grub under ground,
There's sunshine in the sky.

When greedy authors wield the pen

To please the vulgar town-
Depict great thieves as injured men
And heroes of renown;
Pander to prejudices unclean,
Apologise for crime,

And daub the vices of the mean

With flattery like slime :

For Milton's craft, for Shakspeare's tongue,
We blush, but yet reply-
Grub, little moles, grub under ground;
There's sunshine in the sky

When smug philosophers survey
The various climes of earth,
And mourn-poor segelings of a day—
Its too prolific birth;

And prove by figure, rule, and plan
The large fair world too small
To feed the multitudes of man

That flourish on its ball:
We view the vineyards on the hills
And corn-fields waving high-
Grub, little moles, grub under ground;
There's sunshine in the sky.

When men complain of human kind,
In misanthropic mood,

And thinking evil things, grow blind
To presence of the good;
When, walled in prejudices strong,
They urge that evermore

The world is fated to go wrong,

For going wrong before :

We feel the truths they cannot feel,

And smile as we reply

Grub little moles, grub under ground.
There's sunshine in the sky

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.....

If sin came by thee,
And by sin, death-the ransom righteousness,
The heavenly life and compensative rest,
Shall come by means of thee
Be satisfied
Something thou hast to bear through womanhood-
Peculiar suffering answering to the sin,
Some pang paid down for each human life:
Some weariness in guarding such a life,
Some coldness from the guarded. But thy love
Shall chaunt its own beatitudes

After its own life working. A child's kiss
Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad;
A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich
A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong,

HARD TIMES.

BY CHARLES DICKENS.

(Continued and Cancluded.)

The sun was high when they sat down to rest. They had seen no one, near or distant, for a long time, and the solitude remained unbroken.

"It is so still here, Rachael, and the way is so untrodden, that I think we must be the first who have been here all the summer."

As Sissy said it, her eyes were attracted by another of those rotten fragments of fence upon the ground. She got up to look at it

"And yet I don't know. This has not been broken very long. The wood is quite fresh where it gave Here are footsteps, too. O Rachael!"

way.

She ran back and caught her round the neck. Rachael had already started up.

"What is the matter?" I don't know.

grass."

as loud as she could call. She listened, but no sound replied. She called again and listened; still no answering sound. She did this twenty, thirty times. She took a clod of earth from the broken ground, where he had stumbled, and threw it in. She could not hear it fall.

toward it on her hands and knees, and called to him the grass, waiting and waiting. After they had waited some time, straggling people who had heard of the accident began to come up; then the real help of implements began to arrive. In the midst of this Rachael returned; and with her party there was a surgeon, who brought some wine and medicines. But the expectation among the working pitmen that the man would be found alive, was very slight indeed.

The wide prospect, so beautiful in its stillness but a few minutes ago, almost carried despair to her brave heart, as she rose and looked all round her, seeing no help.

"Rachael, we must lose not a moment. We must go in different directions, seeking aid. You shall go by the way we have come, and I will go forward by the path. Tell any one you see, and every one what has happened. Think of Stephen, think of Stephen!"

She knew by Rachael's face that she might trust | her now. After standing for a moment to see her running wringing her hands as she went, she turned There is a hat lying in the and went upon her own search; she stopped at the hedge to tie her shawl there as a guide to the place, then threw her bonnet aside, and ran as she had never run before.

They went forward together. Rachael took it up, shaking from head to foot. She broke into a passion of tears and lamentations; Stephen Blackpool was written in his own hand on the inside.

Run, Sissy, run, in Heaven's name! Don't stop for breath. Run, run. Quickening herself by car"O the poor lad, the poor lad! He has been made rying such entreaties in her thoughts, she ran from away with. He is lying murdered here!" field to field and lane to lane, and place to place, as "Is there has the hat any blood upon it?" she had never run before, until she came to a shed Sissy faltered.

They were afraid to look, but they did examine it, and found no mark of violence, inside or out. It had been lying there some days, for rain and dew had stained it, and it left the mark of its shape upon the grass where it had fallen. They looked fearfully about them, without moving, but could see nothing

by an engine-house, where two men lay in the shade asleep on straw.

First to wake them, and next to tell them, all so wild and breathless as she was, what had brought her there, were difficulties; but they no sooner understood her than their spirits were on fire like hers. One of the men was in a drunken slumber, but on his comrade's shouting to him that a man had fallen "Rachael," Sissy whispered, "I will go on a little down the OLD HELL SHAFT, he started out to a pool by myself." of dirty water, put his head in it, and came back sober.

more.

She had unclasped her hand, and was in the act of stepping forward, when Rachael caught her in both arms with a scream that resounded over the wide landscape. Before them, at their very feet, was the brink of a black ragged chasm, hidden by the thick grass. They sprang back, and fell upon their knees, each hiding her face upon the other's neck. "O my good God! He's down there! Down

there!"

herself down the shaft.

"Rachael, dear Rachael, good Rachael, for the love of Heaven, not those dreadful cries! Think of Stephen, think of Stephen, think of Stephen!"

With these two men she ran to another half-a-mile further, and with that one to another, while they ran elsewhere. Then a horse was found, and she got another man to ride for life or death to the railroad, and send a message to Louisa, which she wrote and gave him. By this time a whole village was up, and windlasses, ropes, poles, buckets, candles, lanterns, all things necessary, were fast collecting and being brought into one place, to be carried to the Old Hell Shaft.

At first this and her terrific screams were all that could be got from Rachael by any tears, by any prayers, by any representations, by any means. It It seemed now hours and hours since she had left was impossible to hush her, and it was deadly neces- the lost man lying in the grave where he had been busary to hold her, or she would have distractedly flung ried alive. She could not bear to remain away from it any longer-it was like deserting him-and she hurried swiftly back, accompanied by half-a-dozen laborers, including the drunken man whom the news had sobered, and who was the best man of all. When they came to the Old Hell Shaft they found it as lonely as she had left it. The men called and listened as she had done, and examined the edge of the chasm, and settled how it had happened, and then sat down to wait until the implements they wanted should come up.

By an earnest repetition of this entreaty, poured out in all the agony of such a time, Sissy at last brought her to be silent, and to look at her with a

tearless face of stone.

"Rachael, Stephen may be living. You wouldn't leave him lying maimed at the bottom of this dreadful place a moment if you could bring help to him." Every sound of insects in the air, every stirring No, no, no!" of the leaves, every whisper among these men, made "Don't stir from here, for his sake! Let me go Sissy tremble, for she thought it was a cry at the and listen." bottom of the pit. But the wind blew idly over it, She shuddered to approach the pit, but she crept and no sound arose to the surface, and they sat upon

There being now people enough present to impede the work; the sobered man put himself at the head of the rest, or was put there by the general consent, and made a large ring round the Old Hell Shaft, and appointed men to keep it. Besides such volunteers as were accepted to work, only Sissy and Rachael were at first permitted within this ring; but later in the day, when the message brought an express from Coketown, Mr. Gradgrind and Louisa, and Mr. Bounderby, and the whelp, were also there.

The sun was four hours lower than when Sissy and Rachael had first sat down upon the grass, before a means of enabling two men to descend securely was rigged with poles and 1opes. Difficulties had arisen in the construction of this machine, simple as it was; requisites had been found wanting, and messages had had to go and return. It was five o'clock in the afternoon of a bright autumnal Sunday, before a candle was sent down to try the air, while three or four rough faces stood crowded close together, all actively watching it: the men at the windlass lowering as they were told. The candle was brought up again, feebly burning, and then some water was cast in. Then the bucket was hooked on, and the sobered man and another got in with lights, giving the word "Lower away!"

As the rope went out, tight and strained, and the windlass creaked, there was not a breath among the one or two hundred men and women looking on that came as it was wont to come. The signal was given and the windlass stopped, with abundant rope to spare. Apparently so long an interval ensued, with the men at the windlass standing idle, that some women shrieked another accident had happened. But the surgeon who held the watch, declared five minutes not to have elapsed yet, and sternly admonished them to keep silence. He had not well done speaking when the windlass was reversed and worked again. Practiced eyes knew that it did not go as heavily as it would if workmen had been coming up, and that only one was returning.

The rope came in tight and strained, and ring after ring was coiled upon the barrel of the windlass, and all eyes were fastened on the pit.

The sobered man was brought up, and leaped out briskly on the grass. There was a universal cry of "Alive or dead?" and then a deep profound hush.

When he said "Alive," a great shout arose, and many eyes had tears in them.

"But he's hurt very bad," he added as soon as he "Where's doctor? could make himself heard again. He's hurt so very so very bad, sir, that we donno how to get him up."

They all consulted together, and looked anxiously at the surgeon, as he asked some questions and shook his head on receiving the replies. The sun was setting now, and the red light in the evening sky touched every face there, and caused it to be distinctly seen in all its rapt suspense.

The consultation ended in the men returning to the windlass, and the pitman going down again, carrying the wine and some other small matters with him. Then the other man came up. In the meantime, under the surgeon's directions, some men brought a bundle, on which others made a thick bed of spare clothes covered with straw, while he himself contrived some bandages and slings from shawls and handkerchiefs. As these were made, they were hung upon the arm of the pitman who had last come up, with instructions how to use them; and as he stood, shown in the light he carried, leaning his powerful loose hand upon one of the poles, and sometimes glancing down the pit and sometimes glancing round upon the people, he was not the least conspicuous figure in the scene. It was dark now, and torches were kindled.

that he could do was to cover it. That gently done
he called to him Rachael and Sissy, and at that time
the pale, worn, patient face was seen looking up at
the sky, with the broken right hand lying bare on
the outside of the covering garments, as if waiting
to be taken by another hand.

They gave him drink, moistened his face with
water, and administered some drops of cordial and
wine. Though he lay quite motionless looking up at
the sky, he smiled and said, “Rachael.”

She stooped down on the grass at his side, and bent over him until her eyes were between his and the sky, for he could not so much as turn them to look at her.

"Rachael, my dear."

She took his hand. He smiled again and said,
"Don't let it go."

"Thou'rt in great pain, my own dear Stephen?"
"I ha' been, but not now. I ha' been-dreadful,
and dree, and long, my dear—but 'tis ower now.
Ah Rachael, aw a muddle! Fro' first to last, a
muddle!"

believed that what the young lady sen an' done to
me, an' what her brother sen an' done to me were
one, an' that there were a wicked plot betwixt un.
When I fell, I were in anger wi' her, an' hurryin'
on t' be as onjust t' her as others was t' me. But in
our judgment like as in our doins, we mun bear and
forbear. You in my pain an' trouble lookin' up
| yonder-wi' it shinin' on me—I ha' seen more clear
and ha' made it my dying prayer that aw' th' world
may only come toogether more, an' get a better un-
nerstannin' o' one another, than when I were in't my
own weak seln."

Louisa, hearing what he said, bent over him on the opposite side to Rachael, so that he could see her.

"You ha' heard ?" he said, after a few moment's silence. "I ha' not forgot yo', ledy.”

It appeared from the little this man said to those about him, which was quickly repeated all over the circle, that the lost man had fallen upon a mass of crumbled rubbish with which the pit was half-choked up, and that his fall had further been broken by some jagged earth at the side. He lay upon his back with one arm doubled under him, and according to his belief, had hardly stirred since he fell, except that he "I ha' fell into th' pit, my dear, as have cost wi'n had moved his free hand to a side pocket, in which the knowledge o' old fok now livin' hundreds and he remembered to have some bread and meat (of which hundreds o' men's lives-fathers, sons, brothers, he had swallowed crumbs), and had likewise scooped dear to thousands an' thousands, and keepin' 'em up a little water in it now and then. He had come fro' want and hunger. I ha' fell into a pit that ha' straight away from his work on being written to; been wi' th' fire damp crueller than battle. I ha' and had walked the whole journey; and was on his read on't in the public petition, as onny one may way to Mr. Bounderby's country-house after dark, read, fro' the men that works in pits, in which they when he fell. He was crossing that, dangerous ha' pray'n an' pray'n the law-makers for Christ's country at such a dangerous time because he was sake not to let their work be murder to 'em, but to wholly innocent of what was laid to his charge, and spare 'em for th' wives and children that they loves couldn't test from coming the nearest way to deliver as well as gentlefolk loves theirs. When it were in himself up. The Old Hell Shaft, the pitman said, work, it killed wi'out need; when 'tis let alone, it with a curse upon it, was worthy of its bad name to kills wi'out need. See how we die, an' no need, one the last, for though Stephen could speak now, he be-way an' another-in a muddle every day!"

"Yes, Stephen, I have heard you. And your prayer is mine."

"You ha' a father. Will yo' tak a message to him?"

"He is here," said Louisa, with dread.
The spectre of his old look seemed to pass as he I bring him to you?"
said the word.
"If yo' please."

"Shall

Louisa returned with her father. Standing handin-hand, they both looked down upon his solemn countenance.

"Sir, yo' will clear me, an' mak' my name good wi' aw men. This I leave to yo'."

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Mr. Gradgrind was troubled, and asked how? Sir," was the reply, "your son will tell yo' how. Ask him. I mak' no charges. I leave none abint me; not a single word. I ha' seen an' spok'n wi' your son, one night. I ask no more o' yo' than that—to clear me-an' I trust to yo' to do't."

The bearers being now ready to carry him away, and the surgeon being anxious for his removal, those who had torches or lanterns, prepared to go in front of the litter. Before it was raised, and

lieved it would soon be found to have mangled the He faintly said it, without any anger against any while they were arranging how to go, he said to life out of him. one. Merely as the truth.

Thou know'st, poor, patient, suff'rin' dear, how she died, young and misshapen; awlung o' sickly air as had'n no need to be, an' awlung o' working people's miserable homes. A muddle! Aw a muddle !"

When all was ready, this man still taking his last "Thy little sister, Rachael, thou hast not forgot hurried charges from his comrades and the surgeon, her. Thou'rt not like to forget her now, and me so after the windlass had begun to lower him, disap-nigh her. peared into the pit. The rope went out as before, the signal was made as before, and the windlass stopped. No man removed his hand from it now. Every one waited with his grasp set, and his body bent down to the work, ready to reverse and wind in. At length the signal was given, and all the ring leaned forward.

For now the rope came in tightened and strained to its utmost as it appeared, and the men turned heavily, and the windlass complained. It was scarcely endurable to look at the rope, and think of its giving way. But ring after ring was coiled upon the barrel of the windlass safely, and the connecting chains appeared, and finally the bucket with the two men holding on at the sides-a sight to make the head swim, and oppress the heart-and tenderly supporting between them, slung and tied within, the figure of a poor crushed human creature.

A low murmur of pity went round the throng and the women wept aloud, as this form, almost without form, was moved very slowly from its iron deliverance, and laid upon the bed of straw. At first none but the surgeon went close to it. He did what he could in its adjustment on the couch, but the best

Louisa approached him, but he could not see her, lying with his face turned up to the night sky.

"If aw th' things that touches us, my dear, was not so muddled, I shoul'n' ha' had'n need to coom heer. If we was not in a muddle among oursel'n, I should'n ha' been by my own fellow weavers and workin' brothers, so mistook. If Mr. Bounderby had ever know'd me right-rather if he'd ever know'd me at aw-he would'n' ha' took'n offence wi' me. He would'n' ha' suspect'n me. But look up yonder, Rachael! Look aboove."

Following his eyes, she saw that he was gazing at a star.

"It ha' shined upon me," he said reverently, “in pain and trouble down below. It ha' shined into my mind. I ha' lookn an' thout o' thee, Rachael, till the muddle in my mind have cleared away above a bit, I hope. If soom ha' been wantin in unnerstannin' me better, I, too, ha' been wantin in unnerstannin' them better. When I got thy letter, I easily

Rachael, looking upward at the star

"Often as I coom to myseln, and found it shinin' on me down there in my trouble, I thowt it were the star as guided to Our Saviour's home, I awmust think it be the very star!"

They lifted him up, and he was overjoyed to find that they were about to take him in the direction whither the star seemed to him to lead.

"Rachael, beloved lass! Don't let go my hand. We may walk together t'night, dear!" "I will hold thy hand, and keep beside thee, Stephen all the way."

"Bless thee! Will soombody be pleased to coover my face?"

They carried him very gently along the fields, and down the lanes, and over the wide landscape; Rachael always holding the hand in hers. Very few whispers broke the mournful silence. It was soon a funeral procession. The star had shown him where to find the God of the poor; and through humility, and sorrow, and forgiveness, he had gone to his Redeemer's rest.

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