Morning journal and courier., 1894-01-06

with parting injunction to secrecy, dis missed him as graciously as though her | own heart were free from pang or storm. When the door had closed behind him she | preassd her face against the window panes | towards the peaceful vale below, and again l upon the panes towards the wild mountain ! path above. She listened moment at her | fathers door. From this she turned her white, hurt face, now flied with unuttera- ble childish longing, to the mute mother l face against the wall. Then she threw herself on the couch, giving way to sobs and tears; while the deepening shadows of the evening gathered close and chill over hamlet, vale and hall.
 The next day, the famous Rushbsaring dsy in Grssmere, had come and almost gone. The peasant folk for miles around had dropped into the old hamlet, as had their forefathers for hundreds of years be- fore them. All the ancient merrY-making and rustic games of foot-fall, cricket, wrestling and ''putting the stsne" had been enjoyed, as of yore, by the strong Umbrisn men and youth; while the lusty mountain lssses had gazsd with unstinted awe on the "vagrom" shows, had Haunted their conscious beauty and coquetted to their hesrts' content. Old and young had joined the immemorial procession which always forms at the mossy Rothay bridge. The village band, piping the enlivening strains of Jsmmy Dawson's March, and four maidens in white, with Margery at their head ss was her wont, garlanded with flowers, and carrying a silken rose- bordered scarf filled with green rushes for the strewing, had led. A motley troop of children had come after, carrying tall hol. ly boughs-the ''besriDgs' for the rushes -sntwined with rushes and flowers, cross- es, hearts and wreaths, here and there in- terspersed with figures of the infant Moses in the bulrushee; and then all the sturdy and flowers, had gaily followed on. The throng had wound in and out of the few narrow village streets; and had halted at the church-yard entrance where the band ceased playing and where 8 thousand sol emn voices had joined in the noble hymn to St. Oswald. Thus the quaint old church had been filled; and the multitude, stfll singing soft and low, had strewn flowers and rushes in crumbling porch, in shadowy loft, in ghostly belfry, 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 bsen the vsritable eun- shine and life in these simple and vene- rable rites and observanoes of St. Os- wald's festal day, as she had been for years; had led the tender Grasmere even song, singing as she had never sung be- fore; had given glad gaiety and z.st to that last and merriest ancient custom of the day, the laughter-making distribution of gingerbread and sweets, John Old garth, at her bidding. serving the gene rous portions with mfrth provoking jssts; and az the August evening fell and the happy hearted peasant folk were lumber ing up the mountain ways to their quaint, old rock built homes, she had bidden her betrothed an affectionate good night at the gate of the rectory where she was to remain until morning, in the knowledge 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 If Mar gery's heart had ached, 1t was unheeded by any, save the five arch eonspirators who gathered, towards midnight, at Curt sy Hsrris' cottage, round1y swearing that "sum'et nun be din!" while nursing their fading courage with generous drafts of ale. Huge cudgels stood against the wall and their brave plot, determined at the last moment after such friendly wrangling, was that Curtsy Harris, Willy Benn, Ian my Railton and Tommy Bsmthet, were to proceed to the Wishing Gate to rescue Margery, and engage the agile and power full ghost at all hazards; until Geordie could hasten to the scene with John Old garth to render fitting assistance to Miss Margery, and give color In her eyes to their traitorous though sfsctionste and chivalrous interference.
 A little before midnight Margsry, still clad as at the Rushbearing, set out from | Al, o1@ Al1 ~II | ing across the holt. She had hardly reached the little cottage at the hillsid, when she became conscious of being fol lowed "Ah, Geordie, Geordie," she re aected, ''you have played me false a lastI"
 She halted moment, and the skulk ing figures also stopped. She advanced
 toward them and they retreated. Sh
 turned and proceeded up the hill, whe1
 they again followed. She increased he
 pace. So did those behind. When along
 side the cottage, she suddenly left th
 bill, and, speeding along the hedge t
 the highway at the lake edge, quick
 disappeared.
 One ot her pursuers whispered, Clan
 8 marcyl She hev eied cop th' ghaist;
 then the group huddled at the edge o
 the holt-copse, shuddering and wonde,
 ing what wisdom and vs'or would mex
 suggest. They had not long to waii
 Margery had made the half circuit of tn
 little hill in a few moments. Gliding pas
 the dread Wishing Gate, without even
 glance of interest or fear, she grRsped
 handful of pebbles and mortar from tn
 crumbling coping of the wall; and, dash
 ing down the steep holt side, she appsare'
 before her startled Iesouers so suadenl
 and pelted them with the missiles s
 sharply, that all these ale-bsfuddled Do Quixotes of Grasmere with cries of super
 stitious terror, incontinently took to thei
 heels, never checking their mad flight un
 til barrel safely from all ghosts and tel
 TOTS behind their humb @ cottage doors. Almost laughing and crying at the rou
 of hex pursuers and the grewsomeness 0
 her situation, in @ moment more she ha.
 reached the Wishing Cats. The moonli
 scene below was tranquil and serene. A
 she leaned against the old love-shrine
 whose bars are cut with names and date
 by countless pilgrim hands, she muse,
 aloud. "What should be my dearest wish ly comes herel-this strangely sweet St
 Oswald's nighti"
 'To bs J,hD Oldgarth's happy bride
 God bless you, Margaret Csrsw, I knev you would come at last" spoke 8 voic close beside her, in tones so thrillingly lik
 her lover's that she turned in glad sur priss-to find herself clasped tenderly il the arms of the dread ghost she had com
 to layl
 Just as the first morning light was faint ly stealing over the higher mount ain peak an old white-haired and white bearded man was reclining in Margery's easy chai | in her own room at Rosedale manor-house He rested in an ineffable light and calm af ter half . life time of utter night ant storm. One hand held that of Matthew Seacroft firm and sure and true. The oth CT lovingly stroked the fair head of tn, l noble woman beside him. His deep, kind | ly eyes feu now upon the portrait on tn. wall, now upon Margsry's smiling, up turned face, again upon Margery's lovel standing near and even rested benignly | upon tremb ing old Gsordie, covering in the shadows behind. Finally the old mar spoke.
 John, your father gave out that wa. dead. But I am the elder brother still Thank God and Margaret am az .in the master of Deepdsle Hall; and 1t shall re main a John Oldgarth's after I am gone Asrgery here," and his voice sank for e moment, ''has made us one glad family at the end"
 | As the sun swept bright and clear into the Umbrian valleys. and St. Oswald's ma, tin chime stole sweetly on them there, the Bogle of the Wishing Gate, without the aid of Cursty, Jsmmy, Will and Tam, waf I 1oll