er your own!"

"What's the meanin' o't?" stammered Zeb, hoarsely.

"I am about to cry quits with you. Hurry; for the bride must be at the
church by this."

"What's the meanin' o't?" Zeb repeated.

"Why, that you shall marry the girl. Steady--don't tremble. The banns
are up in your name, and you shall walk into church, and the woman shall
be married to Zebedee Minards. Stop, don't say a word, or I'll repent
and blow your brains out. You want to know who I am, and what's to
become of me. Suppose I'm the Devil; suppose I'm your twin soul, and in
exchange for my life have given you the half of manhood that you lacked
and I possessed; suppose I'm just a deserter from his Majesty's fleet, a
poor devil of a marine, with gifts above his station, who ran away and
took to privateering, and was wrecked at your doors. Suppose that I am
really Zebedee Minards; or suppose that I heard your name spoken in
Sheba kitchen, and took a fancy to wear it myself. Suppose that I shall
vanish to-day in a smell of brimstone; or that I shall leave in irons in
the hold of the frigate now in Troy harbour. What's her name?"

He was dressed by this time in Zeb's old clothes.

"The _Recruit_."

"Whither bound?"

"Back to Plymouth to-night, an' then to the West Indies wi' a convoy."

"Hurry, then; don't fumble, or Ruby'll be tired of waiting. You'll find
a pencil and scrap of paper in my breast pocket. Hand them over."

Zeb did so, and the stranger, seating himself again on the slope, tore
the paper in half, and began to scribble a few lines on each piece.
By the time he had finished and folded them up, Zeb stood before him
dressed in the plum-coloured suit.

"Ay," said the stranger, looking him up and down, and sucking the pencil
contemplatively; "she'll marry you out of hand."

"I doubt it."

"These notes will make sure. Give one to the farmer, and one to Ruby,
as they stand by the chancel rails. But mainly it rests with you.
Take no denial. Say you've come to make her your wife, and won't leave
the church till you've done it. She's still the same woman as when she
threw you over. Ah, sir, we men change our natures; but woman is always
Eve. I suppose you know a short cut to the church? Very well.
I shall take your cart and mare, and drive to meet the press-gang, who
won't be in the sweetest of tempers just now. Come, what are you
waiting for? You're ten minutes late as it is, and you can't be married
after noon."