Year: 1872

When after the funeral we came to ex


amine the WILL we found our uncle's


eccentricity fully displayed. Indeed, its
provisions were SO very strange that
was advised by more than one solicitor


to contest it. But that was far from my
| wish or intention, although | was sur


Drised to find that my uncle had practic


ally broken his word with me. His will


handed over everything to George; leav'


ing him, with regard to my share under


the will, the option between giving me


an estate some miles from Gillandale


worth about five or six hundred year


and presenting me with my uncle's tai


copy of Terence.


George laughed heartily at this clause
when it was read, and cried out that oi


course l should have the "Terence;"


had always preferred the classics to


mathematics, and he was sure Uncle


Geoffrey meant it specially for me, for he


had had it rebound not year before his


death.


But George did not laugh so loudly


when the lawyer came to the final clause


in the will, which provided that in the


case of Georges marrying anyone of the
name of Penelope he was to forfeit the


property, which would then pass over to
me.


George vowed that if he had not made
up his mind about the Terence" before,
he had now, for he was sure had betrayed
his secret to my uncle. l disdained to re-
ply, for to avow my innocence might look
like an attempt to induce him to change
his mind about the tall copy of ''Terence."
But learned before l left the house that
the steward of the yacht, who was con-
fidential servant of my uncle's, had told
him all about onr doings at Gulstone.


l did not stay at Gillandale moment
longer than was necessary to pack up my
clothes and other belongings. 1 had my
had been away when it fell due, and my
uncle had given it to old Mrs. Mardew,
the housekeeper, to take care of for me-


1t was not large sum, but it was
enough to exist on for while, until 1
could look about me and find some en-
ployment.


had half determined not to accept the
"Terence," but on second thoughts |
made up my mind to take it as memento
of Uncle Goeffrey, whom | could not help
loving in despite of his injustice to
me- So put it at the bottom of my box,
and turned my back, as thought, for the
last time on the place that for so many
years had been nv home.


You will very likely be able to
guess whittier bent my steps. One place
was as good as another to mediate on my
fortunes in, but at Gulstone l should at
least find consolation and sympathy and
accordingly to Gulstone l bent my steps.
1t was the height of the season, found,
and lodgings were scarce and dear but |
was fortunate enough to get clean and
comfortable room in the cottage of a
nd ilo of
the town.


Alas as might have been expected, l
forgot in the pleasure of the present the
necessity of planning for the future.
Days and weeks sped away, and were
spent in wandering and waiting to catch
a passing glimpse, or-oh, happiness Ia
short interview with Lucy.


In the meantime, terrible storm had
burst on the Powsby family. George
wrote to Penelope, and told her about the
final clause of the will. 1t would be use
less, he urged, to prolong their engage
ment. To marry her he must sacrifice the
and he felt sure she would not
wish to wed beggar When Penelope
showed the letter to Lucy, she at once
declared that | should never dream of
taking advantage of such clause to de-
prive George of the estates; but Pene-
lope was woman of the world, and she
pointed out, that, considering the shabby
way in which George had behaved to me,
1 should be justified in taking any steps to
avenge myself. Human beings were falli-
BILE and uncertain, she said; and, though
| might promise not to do so, when the
marriage had actually taken place, the
temptation might be too strong.


Old Powsby was simply furious. With
fn =, dor ho of
once instructed his solicitors to commence
an action for breach of promise.


This startled George, and brought him
round in the yacht, to try and compro
mise matters. 1t was some time before
old Powsby would consent to see him,
and then only at the urgent entreaty of
Penelope, who was anxious to avoid the
publicity of an action at law.


By this time the contents of my purse
had reached a point of tenuity which
woke me from my dreaming. l must be
stirring if / would not starve. / told
Lucy, and in the course of the converse
ton l said, half iestingly, that at any rate
before I starved l could sell that tall copy
of Terence Lucy laughingly expressed
a wish to see the interesting volume, so
promised to bring it over the next day.
Accordingly, when leaving my lodging
the following morning, put the parch-
book under my arm, and, as
the tide was going out, descended the
cliff, intending to walk along the sands.


1t was nice fresh morning, and |
strolled along gently, keeping close to the
turning over with my stick the
odds and ends which the waves left be-
hind them, and sending the sand-hoppers
flying before me in clouds.


A "a 4l.o4 Il o{
seem to be the call of a sea-bird. / looked
round, and little farther up the beach
saw heap of clothes lying. at once
tempted to bathe by the fineness of the
day and the seclusion of the little bay.
had been warned of the danger of so
doing by my coast-guard landlord only
two days before. A strong current swept
into the bay, and out round Magog's Nose,
a point a mile south of the bay; and even
the best swimmers, if caught in this cur
rent, would have enough to do to save
All this flashed across my
mind in an instant, while I gazed out sea-
ward. AS the cry came again, more
feebly, strained my sight in the direc
ton whence it seemed to proceed, and
could discern figure floating out to sea.
There was not moment to lose. l kicked
off my boots, flung off coat and waiscoat,
and, throwing the tall copy on the top of
them, rushed into the water. The shore
shelved rapidly, and in few minutes I
found myself swept off my feet by the
current, and began to strike out in the di
rection of the bather. was an excellent
swimmer, and had only light flannels on,
so my clothes did not much impede my
progress.


AS l rushed into the water had given
a long, loud shout, and it seemed to en-
courage the drowning man, for his cries
seemed stronger. I felt that if the cur
rent was no fiercer, and he he had pres
ence of mind enough to obey my direc-
tions, could save him.


Imagine my surprise on nearing him to
see that it was George! I am glad to
think that felt nothing but surprise
not for one second did | feel any hesita-
ton. called to him to lie on his back
| knew he was no swimmer, but could
float, which is easy enough in salt water
Then | swan up to him and began to
push him before me towards shore