The poor, amiable girl, who was all fearfulness and affection, quietly left the room as she was desired, and her father, who saw that his worthy wife was brimful of a coming squall, put on his hat, and after having given one of his usual sardonic looks, left the apartment also.

“Mother,” said her son Charles, “I must protest against the unjustifiable violence of temper with which you treat my father.  You know he was only jesting in what he said to you this moment.”

“Let him carry his jests else were, Mr. Charles,” she replied, “he shan’t indulge in them at my expense; nor will I have you abet him in them as you always do—­yes, sir, and laugh at them in my face.  All this, however, is very natural; as the old cock crows the young one learns.  As for Maria, if she makes as dutiful a wife as she does a daughter, her husband may thank God for getting his full share of evil in this life.”

“I protest to heaven, Harry,” said Charles, addressing his brother, “if ever there was a meek, sweet-tempered girl living, Maria is.  You do not yet know her, but you will, of course, have an opportunity of judging for yourself.”

“You perceive, Harry,” said his mother, addressing him in turn, “you perceive how they are banded against me; in fact, they are joined with their father in a conspiracy to destroy my peace and happiness.  This is the feeling that prevails against me in the house at large, for which I may thank my husband and children—­I don’t include you, Harry.  There is not a servant in our establishment but could poison me, and probably would, too, were it not for fear of the gallows.”

Woodward listened to this strange scene with amazement, but was prudent enough to take no part in it whatsoever.  On the contrary, he got his hat and proceeded out to take a stroll, as the evening was so fine, and the aspect of the country was so delightful.

“Harry,” said his brother, “if you’re for a walk I’ll go with you.”

“Not at present, Charley,” said he, “I am in a thoughtful mood, and generally prefer a lonely stroll on such a beautiful evening as this.”

He accordingly went out, and bent his I steps by a long, rude green lane, which extended upwards of half a mile across a rich! country, undulating with fields and meadows.  This was terminated by a clump of, hawthorn trees, then white and fragrant with their lovely blossoms, which lay in rich profusion on the ground.  Contiguous to this was a small but delightful green glen, from the side of which issued one of those beautiful spring wells for which the country is so celebrated.  Over a verdant little hill, which concealed this glen and the well we mention, from a few humble houses, or rather a decenter kind of cabins, was visible a beaten pathway by which the inhabitants of this small hamlet came for their water.  Upon this, shaded as he was by the trees, he steadily kept his eye for a considerable time, as if in the expectation