his
guest.

"I am a natural law," he replied, "and people call me Death."

"Why did you not tell me so at first?" cried Will. "I have been waiting
for you these many years. Give me your hand, and welcome."

"Lean upon my arm," said the stranger, "for already your strength abates.
Lean on me as heavily as you need; for though I am old, I am very strong.
It is but three steps to my carriage, and there all your trouble ends.
Why, Will," he added, "I have been yearning for you as if you were my own
son; and of all the men that ever I came for in my long days, I have come
for you most gladly. I am caustic, and sometimes offend people at first
sight; but I am a good friend at heart to such as you."

"Since Marjory was taken," returned Will, "I declare before God you were
the only friend I had to look for."

So the pair went arm-in-arm across the courtyard.

One of the servants awoke about this time and heard the noise of horses
pawing before he dropped asleep again; all down the valley that night
there was a rushing as of a smooth and steady wind descending towards the
plain; and when the world rose next morning, sure enough Will o' the Mill
had gone at last upon his travels.

THE TREASURE OF FRANCHARD

THE TREASURE OF FRANCHARD

CHAPTER I

BY THE DYING MOUNTEBANK

They had sent for the doctor from Bourron before six. About eight some
villagers came round for the performance, and were told how matters
stood. It seemed a liberty for a mountebank to fall ill like real people,
and they made off again in dudgeon. By ten Madame Tentaillon was gravely
alarmed, and had sent down the street for Doctor Desprez.

The Doctor was at work over his manuscripts in one corner of the little
dining-room, and his wife was asleep over the fire in another, when the
messenger arrived.

"_Sapristi!_" said the Doctor, "you should have sent for me before. It
was a case for hurry." And he followed the messenger as he was, in his
slippers and skull-cap.

The inn was not thirty yards away, but the messenger did not stop there;
he went in at one door and out by another into the court, and then led
the way, by a flight of steps beside the stable, to the loft where the
mountebank lay sick. If Doctor Desprez were to live a thousand years, he
would never forget his arrival in that room; for not only was the scene
picturesque, but the moment made a date in his existence. We reckon our
lives, I hardly know why, fro