The record-union., 1894-01-06

When the door had closed behind him,
she pressed her face against the window
paneS toward the peaceful vale below,
and again upon the panes toward the
wild mountain path above. She listened
moment at her fathers door. From
this she turned her white, hurt face. now
filled with unutterable childish longing,
to the mute mother-face against the wall.
Then she threw herself on her couch,
giving way TO sobs and tears; while the
deepening shadows OF the evening gath
cred close and chill over hamlet, vale and
hall.
The next day, the famous Rushbearing
Day in Grasmere, had come and almost
gone. The peasant folk for miles around
had trooped into the old hamlet, as had
their forefathers for hundreds of years
before them. All the ancient merry max
ing and rustic games OF football. cricket.
wrestling and putting the stone" had
been enjoyed, as of yore, by the strong
Umbrian men and YOUTH while the lusty
mountain lasses had gazed with unstinted
awe OIL the ''vagrom" shows, had Haunted
their conscious beauty and coquetted to
their hearts content. Old and young
had Joined the immemorial procession
which always forms at the messy
Rothay bridge. The village band, piping
the enlivening strains OF Jenny DaW-
sons March, and four maidens In white,
with Margery at their head as was her
wont, garlanded with flowers, and carry
ing a silken rose bordered scarf flIled
with green rushes for the strewing, had
led. motley troop OF children had
come after, carrying tall holly boughs-
the bearings tor the rushes- -entwined
with rushes and flowers, crosses, hearts
and Wreaths, here and there lnterSperSed
with figures of the infant Moses in the
bulrushes; and then all the sturdy Um-
brian folk, with handfuls of ruShes and
| flowers, had gaily followed on. The
throng had wound in and out OF the few
| narrow village streets; and had halted at
the churchyard entrance where the band
ceased playing and where thousand SOL
emn voices had joined in the noble hymn
to st. oswald. thus the quaint old church
had been filled; and the multitude, still
singing soft and low, had strewn flowers
and rushes in crumbIing porch, IN
shadowy loft, in ghostly beltry, on grim
old Norman tower, in aisle and pew and
chancel, and at last upon the sacred altar
of the hallowed pile, as the sweet old
hymn was done.
Margery had been the veritable sum
shine and life in these simple and vener-
able rites and observances OF st. OsWaldS
testal day, as she had been for years; had
led the tender Grasmere even-Sonl,, sing
ing as she had never sung before; had
<@S~S 1900
and merriest ancient custom OF the day,
the laughter making distribution OF GIN
9erbread and sweets, John Olugarth, at
her bidding, serving the generous pOr-
tions with mirth- provoking JestS; and as
the August evening fell and the happy
hearted peasant folk were numbering up
the mountain ways to their quaint, old
rock-built homes, she had bldden her
betrothed an affectionate good night at
the gate of the rectory where she was TO
remain until morning, in the knoWI-
edge that he was to pass the night with
some American tourist friends at the
Prince of Wales hostelry beside the lake.
In all this long and happy day, IL Mar
gery's heart had ached, it was unheeded
10y any, save the five arch conspIraTors
who gathered, towards midnight, at
Curtsy Harris COTTAGE roundly swearing
that ''sum'et mum be din," While nurs-
ing their fading courage with generous
drafts of ale. Nudge cudgels stood
against the wall, and their brave plot, de-
termined at the last moment alter such
friendly WrangIlng, was that CnrtSy
Harris, Willy Ben, Jenny Rallton and
Tommy Bamthet, were to proceed TO the
Wishing Gate to rescue Margery, and en-
gage the agile and powerful ghost at all
hazards, until Geordie could hasten to
the scene, with John Oldgarth, to render
fitting assistance to Miss Margery, and
give color in her eyes to their traitorous
though atfectionate and chivalrous inter-
ference.
a little before midnight Margery, still
clad as at the Rushbearing, set out from
the rectory along the old highway leading
across the holt. She had hardly reached
the little cottage at the hillside when she
became conscious OF being followed.
"Ah, Geordie, Geordie," she reflected,
you have played me false at lastW