ust.

That same night he met Mary Wells, and, in a strange fit of jealousy,
began to make hot protestations of love to her. He knew it was no use
reproaching her, so he went on the other tack.

She received his vows with cool complacency, but would only stay a
minute, and would only talk of her master and mistress, toward whom her
heart was really warming in their trouble. She spoke hopefully, and
said: "'Tisn't as if he was one of your faint-hearted ones as meet
death half-way. Why, the second day, when he could scarce speak, he
sees me crying by the bed, and says he, almost in a whisper, 'What are
_you_ crying for?' 'Sir,' says I, ''tis for you--to see you lie like a
ghost.' 'Then you be wasting of salt-water,' says he. 'I wish I may,
sir,' says I. So then he raised himself up a little bit. 'Look at me,'
says he; 'I'm a Bassett. I am not the breed to die for a crack on the
skull, and leave you all to the mercy of them that would have no
mercy'--which he meant you, I suppose. So he ordered me to leave
crying, which I behooved to obey; for he will be master, mind ye, while
he have a finger to wag, poor dear gentleman, he will."

And, soon after this, she resisted all his attempts to detain her, and
scudded back to the house, leaving Bassett to his reflections, which
were exceedingly bitter.

Sir Charles got better, and at last used to walk daily with Lady
Bassett. Their favorite stroll was up and down the lawn, close under
the boundary wall he had built to shut out "The Heir's Walk."

The afternoon sun struck warm upon that wall and the walk by its side.

On the other side a nurse often carried little Dicky Bassett, the heir;
but neither of the promenaders could see each other for the wall.

Richard Bassett, on the contrary, from "The Heir's Tower," could see
both these little parties; and, as some men cannot keep away from what
causes their pain, he used to watch these loving walks, and see Sir
Charles get stronger and stronger, till at last, instead of leaning on
his beloved wife, he could march by her side, or even give her his arm.

Yet the picture was, in a great degree, delusive; for, except during
these blissful walks, when the sun shone on him, and Love and Beauty
soothed him, Sir Charles was not the man he had been. The shake he had
received appeared to have damaged his temper strangely. He became so
irritable that several of his servants left him; and to his wife he
repined; and his childless condition