a, now, or a trinket, and I'll let bygones be
bygones, specially"--with a horrid leer--"if you'll give me a kiss with
'em; eh?"

In a moment Gilbert had sprung over the bushes which hedged in the track
on either side, and had his hand on the man's throat.

"Let this young lady pass, you villain!" he said, shaking the huge form,
who, taken unawares, had very little power of resistance. "Let her
pass."

There is always something in a brave, strong, young spirit which is too
much for the brute force of an untutored giant like Bob Priday. He
staggered and fell back, Gilbert's hand being still at his throat.

Joyce, pale and trembling, did not lose her self-control. "Please let
me pass," she said; "I have no money to give you, and if I had it would
not be right to bribe you. My father only did his duty on the bench that
day. You were guilty, and you know it; you got off unpunished, and you
should be thankful, and try to lead a better life."

There was something wonderfully grand in the way Joyce spoke, though her
face was white with girlish fear, and her lips quivered, her voice did
not falter as she appealed to the huge man who might, she knew, shake
off Gilbert's restraining hand, and spring on her at any moment.

"Let me pass," she said, "and this gentleman will----"

At this moment a woman's voice was heard, and a girl with a red
handkerchief on her head, with an effort at respectable attire in her
short, blue cotton frock, and large, thick boots, came over the tangled
mass of heath and ling, and cried:

"Father! What are you about now, father?"

"You mind your own business, you hussy, and leave me alone."

"Oh, father!" the girl said, passionately, "I wish you would be good.
Think how mother used to pray for you! Oh, dear lady," the girl said,
bursting into tears, "I am heart-broken about father. Please, sir, let
him go."

"Let me go!" said the giant, with a loud, discordant laugh; "I'll see
about that." Then, with a mighty effort, he hurled Gilbert from him, and
before he could recover his feet, he had seized Joyce's arm. "Give me
the money, or I'll be even with your father; curse him!"

But the girl threw herself on her father and held him back, while
Gilbert, stunned and bewildered by the force with which he had been
hurled over the heather, staggered to his feet again, and, with a
well-aimed blow at the back of the man's head, laid him sprawling on
the path.

"Oh! I hope he is not hurt!" Joyce exclai