r.

"Yes; I found him busy one day when I came home for a visit, and it has
been his task ever since."

"But--for Heaven's sake, man, be frank with me--he meant it for your
home?"

"Scarlett Markham, because my father differed from you in politics, and
sided against the king, don't brand him as a cowardly miser. No; he
said that some day Sir Godfrey would return, and that he would show him
that he had not forgotten they once were friends."

"Father, do you hear this?" cried Scarlett. "Colonel Forrester, is the
old time coming back?"

"Please God, my boy, now that the sword is to be beaten into a
ploughshare. Godfrey Markham, I did this in all sincerity. Will you
accept it from your enemy?"

"No," cried Sir Godfrey; "but I will from my true old friend." And as,
trembling with emotion, he grasped the colonel's hands, he turned to see
Lady Markham in Mistress Forrester's arms.

Meanwhile, a curious scene had been taking place at the back of the
Hall, where Nat had directed his steps to lament over the weeds and ruin
of the neglected place. He had walked on along familiar paths through
the plantation to the back of the kitchen garden, passed through an old
oaken gate in the high stone wall, and there stopped aghast.

"Here, who's been meddling now?" he cried. "Who's been doing this?"

For, in place of the ruin he had expected, he found everything in the
trimmest order--young crops sprung, trees pruned, walks clean,
everything as it should be; and, worse than all, a broad-shouldered man,
looking like himself, busy at work with a hoe destroying the weeds which
had sprung up since the last shower.

Nat did not hesitate, but walked down the path, and at right angles on
to the bed, where he hit the intruder on the chest with his doubled
fist.

"So it's you, is it, Samson?"

"Yes, it's me, Nat," was the reply; and the blow was returned.

"How are you, Samson?" said Nat; and he hit his brother again on the
other side.

"Tidy, Nat. How are you?" replied Samson, returning the blow.

"You've got a bit stouter."

"So have you."

"Long time since we met."

"Ay, 'tis."

"Like this here garden?"

"Middling."

Each of these little questions and answers was accompanied by a blow
dealt right out from the shoulder, sharp and short, till the men's
chests must have been a mass of bruises. Then they drew back, and
stared at each other.

"Who told you to come and work in my garden?" said Nat at last.

"N