throng of village children, as she was led by Sir Charles Neville along the flowery pathway. Never had she looked so lovely, and as Ned received her at the altar, before which they knelt together, the blessings of the multitude were expressed in simple but earnest words, "God spare them to live happily together." Once more the bells pealed merrily as Ned led his bride from the church-door, and the children and women showered sweet nosegays before their feet, amidst the loud hurrahs of many hundred voices. "One cheer more," shouted Captain Smart, as with his only remaining hand he waved his cap above his head, and led the "Hip! hip! hip! hurrah!" "What a nice dear man he is!" said Mrs. Jones to Polly Grey; "how I do love a sailor! What a pity that he does not marry; he would make such a perfect husband! although, by-the-bye, my dear, with only one arm he would be an imperfect husband, certainly, but it's all the same thing in the end. I do so wish Captain Smart would think of marriage." The happy day was nearly over; the guests were gone, and only Mr. Banks, the clergyman who had officiated, remained. Ned called him on one side. "My dear sir," said he, "to me this is a day of such true and perfect joy, after all the difficulties and dangers of my life, that I cannot rest so long as I have an enemy whom I have not forgiven. There is one whom you know, James Stevens, the squire-who has through life, even from early boyhood, hated me with an uncalled-for intensity, although I would have made him my friend. Act for me as a peacemaker, I pray you. Go to him and tell him from me that I will forget every injury, and I trust that the past may be forgotten on both sides. Say to him that I stretch out my hand, and let him receive it in sincerity." The good-natured clergyman would hear of no delay, but, happy in the office of peacemaker, hẹ returned home, and mounting his pony, he rode at once to Heron Hall. The moon was full when he started, and upon his strong black cob he trotted quickly forward. On arrival at the entrance lodge he had to dismount to open the gate, as the porter and his family were enjoying themselves in the village, where a grand feast for all comers had been prepared by Mrs. Jones. Having passed through, he rode up the long avenue of elm-trees until he arrived at the oak upon the lawn, the branches of which overhung the carriage-drive. As the moon shone through the tree, it cast a horrible shadow upon the ground before the horse's feet; the animal shied, and nearly gave the clergyman a fall. At this moment an owl upon the boughs gave a shrill and wild "too hoo, too hoo, too hoo, too hoo, too hoo-0-0-0-0!" The pony startled, turned sharp round, and threw its rider heavily upon the lawn beneath the tree, while it galloped off in the direction of the village. Mr. Banks, half-stunned and giddy with the fall, rose from the ground. He was not naturally superstitious, but he had an indescribable feeling of something terrible. There was an old swing upon the oak, and the creak of the iron hook now jarred in his ear as the wind swung it to and fro. He started at a shadow on the ground. It looked like a human being suspended by the neck to a naked and withered branch. He looked up, and the first object that met his view was the body of a man hanging from one of the ropes that had formed the swing. The feet were only a yard from the ground. Without an instant's delay, the terrified clergyman rushed frantically to the Hall, and rang the door-bell loudly. It was quickly answered. "A ladder and a knife!" cried the clergyman. "Where is the squire?" "The squire said he was going to Stoke, sir," replied the astonished servant. "Quick with the knife and ladder! A man has hung himself on the oak-tree!" continued Mr. Banks. In a few minutes several servants, with a knife and a ladder, had accompanied him to the oak, and the rope being quickly severed, the body was let down. A cry of horror and surprise was uttered by all present, as they recognised the swollen and discoloured features of James Stevens. Nearly two years had passed away since that fatal night. The rectory once more resounded with the shouts of merry boys, as Mr. Banks had married Mrs. Jones, and kept a school. She had comforted herself with the idea that "a minister of the Gospel was a more godly man than a sailor; not that sailors were ungodly, as St. Paul was a sailor, or very nearly one; it didn't matter which, so long as he went to sea: but |