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very friendly voice. Certes, I should have been in the river now but for you, for I was born in Warwickshire, which is but a dry county, and there are few who swim in those parts.'

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"I ask no thanks,' Alleyne answered shortly. Give me your hand to rise, Ford.'

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"The river has been my enemy,' said Tranter, but it hath been a good friend to you, for it has saved your life this day.' "That is as it may be,' returned Alleyne.

'But all is now well over,' quoth Harcomb, and no scath come of it, which is more than I had at one time hoped for. Our young friend here hath very fairly and honestly earned his right to be craftsman of the Honourable Guild of the Squires of Bordeaux. Here is your doublet, Tranter.'

Alas for my poor sword which lies at the bottom of the Garonne!' said the squire.

'Here is your pourpoint, Edricson,' cried Norbury. Throw it over your shoulders, that you may have at least one dry garment.'

'And now away back to the abbey!' said several.

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'One moment, sirs,' cried Alleyne, who was leaning on Ford's shoulder, with the broken sword, which he had picked up, still clutched in his right hand. My ears may be somewhat dulled by the water, and perchance what has been said has escaped me, but I have not yet heard this gentleman crave pardon for the insults which he put upon me in the hall.'

'What! do you still pursue the quarrel?' asked Tranter.

'And why not, sir? I am slow to take up such things, but once afoot I shall follow it while I have life or breath.'

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'Ma foi! you have not too much of either, for you are as white as marble,' said Harcomb bluntly. Take my rede, sir, and let it drop, for you have come very well out from it.'

'Nay,' said Alleyne, 'this quarrel is none of my making; but, now that I am here, I swear to you that I shall never leave this spot until I have that which I have come for: so ask my pardon, sir, or choose another glaive and to it again.'

The young squire was deadly white from his exertions, both on the land and in the water. Soaking and stained, with a smear of blood on his white shoulder and another on his brow, there was still in his whole pose and set of face the trace of an inflexible resolution. His opponent's duller and more material mind quailed before the fire and intensity of a higher spiritual nature.

'I had not thought that you had taken it so amiss,' said he awkwardly. It was but such a jest as we play upon each other, and, if you must have it so, I am sorry for it.'

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"Then I am sorry too,' quoth Alleyne warmly, and here is my hand upon it.'

'And the none-meat horn has blown three times,' quoth Harcomb, as they all streamed in chattering groups from the ground. 'I know not what the prince's maître-de-cuisine will say or think. By my troth! master Ford, your friend here is in need of a cup of wine, for he hath drunk deeply of Garonne water. I had not thought from his fair face that he had stood to this matter so shrewdly.'

"Faith,' said Ford, this air of Bordeaux hath turned our turtle-dove into a game-cock. A milder or more courteous youth never came out of Hampshire.'

'His master also, as I understand, is a very mild and courteous gentleman,' remarked Harcomb; 'yet I do not think that they are either of them men with whom it is very safe to trifle.'

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BY THE AUTHOR OF THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF.'

CHAPTER VI.

THE BONAMYS AT HOME.

THE rector made his first exploration of his new neighbourhood, not on the day after his arrival, which was taken up with his induction by the archdeacon and with other matters, but on the day after that. He chose on this occasion to avoid the streets, in which he felt somewhat shy, so polite were the attentions and so curious the glances of his parishioners; and selected instead a lane which, starting from the churchyard, seemed to plunge at once into the country. It was a pleasant lane. It lay deep sunk in a cutting through the sandstone rock-a cutting first formed, perhaps, when the great stones for the building of the church were dragged up that way. He paused halfway down the slope to look curiously over the landscape, and was still standing when someone came round the corner before him. It was Kate Bonamy. He saw the girl's cheek -she was alone-flush ever so slightly as their eyes met; and he noticed, too, that to all appearance she would have passed him with a bow had he not placed himself in her way. Come,' he said, laughing frankly, as he held out his hand, you must not cut me, Miss Bonamy! Indeed, you have quite the aspect of an old friend, for until now I have not seen one face since I came here that was not absolutely new to me.'

'It must feel strange, no doubt,' she murmured.

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'It does. I feel strange!' he replied. 'I want you to tell me VOL. XVII.-NO. 98, N.S.

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where this road goes to, if you please. I am so strange, I do not even know that.'.

'It leads to Kingsford Carbonel,' she answered briefly.

"Ah! The archdeacon lives there, does he not?'

'Yes.'

'And the distance is

'Three miles.'

'Thank you,' he said. Really, you are as concise as a milestone, Miss Bonamy. And now let me remind you,' he continued -there was an air of 'I am going on this moment' about her, which provoked him to detain her the longer-that you have not yet asked me what I think of Claversham.'

'I would rather ask you in a month's time,' Kate answered quietly, holding out her hand to take leave. 'Though it is already reported in the town that your stay will not be a long one; indeed, that you will only stay a year.'

'I shall only stay a year!' the rector repeated in astonishment. 'Certainly,' she answered, smiling, and relapsing for a moment into the pleasant frankness of that day at Oxford-' only a year; your days are already numbered, it is said.'

'What do you mean?' he asked plainly.

'Have you never heard the old tradition that as many times as a clergyman sounds the bell at his induction, so many years will he remain in the living? The report in Claversham is that you rang it only once.'

'You did not hear it yourself?' he said, catching her eyes suddenly, a lurking smile in his own.

Her colour rose faintly. 'I am not sure,' she said. And then, meeting his eyes boldly, she added in a different tone, 'Yes, I did hear it.'

'Only once?'

She nodded.

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'That is very sad,' he answered. Well, the tradition is new to me. If I had known it,' he added, laughing, I should have tolled the bell at least fifty times. Clode should have instructed me; but I suppose he thought I knew. I remember now that the archdeacon did say something afterwards, but I did not understand the reference. You know the archdeacon, Miss Bonamy, I suppose?'

'No,' said Kate, growing stiff again.

'Do you not? Well, at any rate you can tell me where Mrs.

Hammond lives. She has kindly asked me to dine with her on Tuesday. I put my acceptance in my pocket, and thought I would deliver it myself when I came back from my walk.'

'Mrs. Hammond lives at the Town House,' Kate answered. 'It is the large house among the trees near the top of the town. You cannot mistake it.'

'Shall I have the pleasure of meeting you there?' he asked, holding out his hand at last.

'No,' she replied, with unexpected decision, I do not know Mrs. Hammond, Mr. Lindo. But I am detaining you. Good afternoon.' And with that and a slight bow she left him; rather abruptly at the last.

That is odd,' Lindo reflected as, continuing his walk, he turned to admire her graceful figure and the pretty carriage of her head. 'I fancied that in these small towns everyone knew everyone. What sort of people are the Hammonds, I wonder? New, rich, and vulgar, perhaps. It may be so, and that would account for it. Yet Clode spoke well of them.'

Something which he did not understand in the girl's manner continued to pique the young man's curiosity long after he had parted from her, and led him to dwell more intently upon her than upon the scenery, novel as this was to him. She had shown herself at one moment so frank, and at another so stiff and constrained, that it was equally impossible to ascribe the one attitude to shyness or the other to a naturally candid manner. The rector considered the question so long, and found it so puzzling—and interesting that on his return to town he had come to one conclusion only-that it was his immediate duty to call upon his churchwardens. He had made the acquaintance of Mr. Harper, his own warden, at his induction. It remained, therefore, to call upon Mr. Bonamy, the people's warden. When he had taken his lunch, it seemed to him that there was no time like the present.

He had no difficulty in finding Mr. Bonamy's house, which stood in the middle of the town, about half-way down Bridge Street. It was a substantial, respectable residence of brick, not detached nor withdrawn from the roadway. It had nothing aristocratic in its appearance, and was known by a number. Its eleven windows, of which the three lowest rejoiced in mohair blinds, were sombre, its doorway was heavy. In a word, it was a respectable middle-class house in a dull street in a country towna house suggestive of early dinners and set teas. The rector felt

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