d which led to the gloomy wood and
the guilty river. The longing in me to see Cristel again, was more than I
could resist. Not because I was in love with her; only because I had left
her in distress.

Beyond the spring, and within a short distance of the river, I saw a lady
advancing towards me on the path which led from the mill.

Brisk, smiling, tripping along like a young girl, behold the
mock-republican, known in our neighborhood as Lady Rachel! She held out
both hands to me. But for her petticoats, I should have thought I had met
with a jolly young man.

"I have been wandering in your glorious wood, Mr. Roylake. Anything to
escape the respectable classes on Sunday, patronizing piety on the way to
afternoon church. I must positively make a sketch of the cottage by the
mill--I mean, of course, the picturesque side of it. That fine girl of
Toller's was standing at the door. She is really handsomer than ever. Are
you going to see her, you wicked man? Which do you admire--that gypsy
complexion, or Lena's lovely skin? Both, I have no doubt, at your age.
Good-bye."

When we had left each other, I thought of the absent Captain in the Navy
who was Lady Rachel's husband. He was a perfect stranger--but I put
myself in his place, and felt that I too should have gone to sea.

Old Toller was alone in his kitchen, evidently annoyed and angry.

"We are all at sixes and sevens, Mr. Gerard. I've had another row with
that deaf-devil--my new name for him, and I think it's rather clever. He
swears, sir, that he won't go at the end of his week's notice. Says, if I
think I'm likely to get rid of him before he has married Cristy, I'm
mistaken. Threatens, if any man attempts to take her away, he'll shoot
her, and shoot the man, and shoot himself. Aha! old as I am, if he
believes he's going to have it all his own way, he's mistaken. I'll be
even with him. You mark my words: I'll be even with him."

That old Toller--the most exasperating of men, judged by a quick
temper--had irritated my friend into speaking rashly was plain enough.
Nevertheless, I felt some anxiety (jealous anxiety, I am afraid) about
Cristel. After looking round the kitchen again, I asked where she was.

"Sitting forlorn in her bedroom, crying," her father told me. "I went out
for a walk by the river, and I sat down, and (being Sunday) I fell
asleep. When I woke, and got home again just now, that was how I found
her. I don't like to hear my girl crying; she's as go