nd bleeding, from the fists and
fury of Thornton Rush. The quarrel had commenced in this way: Thornton
had asserted that everything at Thornton Hall was his; Hubert had
nothing. Hubert admitted as much, insisting, however, that all at
Kennons was his.

"No such thing," denied Thornton. "Everything at Kennons is your
father's; you have nothing."

"Well," said the other, "so everything at Thornton Hall is your
mother's, and not yours."

"No such thing. I am the master of Thornton Hall. My father is dead,
sir."

"Yes, I know that."

"You know that! And is that all you can say? Say that I am master of
Thornton Hall, and that you are nobody but Hubert Lisle," said
Thornton, intent upon a quarrel.

"I shall say no such thing."

"But you will, sir, and I can make you. I am stronger than you are, and
I have bigger fists. Look here, aren't you afraid?" shaking his clenched
fist in the other's face.

"No, I am _not_ afraid," spoke Hubert boldly, striving to grapple with
his stronger foe.

So engaged were the boys, they heard not the approach of Mr. Lisle,
till, having dismounted from his horse, he seized Thornton by the collar
and flung him afar, as he would have done a wild cat.

Mrs. Rush, who had seen the whole from the window, and enjoyed it
immensely, now thought it worth while to come upon the scene.

"What does all this mean?" as if just surprised. "Thornton Rush, you
will be punished for this. Have you no better manners than to treat your
young visitor in that way? Really, Mr. Lisle, I am truly distressed, and
offer you a thousand apologies. Please do not take Hubert home in that
condition; bring him to the kitchen and let Dinah bathe his face and
hands. How unfortunate this should have occurred!"

Mr. Lisle complied, and waited until his boy was brought to him in a
more presentable condition; then he went away, very wroth indeed in
heart, but outwardly calm and composed.

CHAPTER X.

"A DREAM WHICH WAS NOT ALL A DREAM."

As the missionary journeyed northward, his mind emerged from the gloom
of the last few days. It naturally turned upon the young girl who was so
soon to become his bride, and in this connection life began again to
assume its rose-tints of old, and he was led to wonder how it was he had
so given way to grief and sadness. In recalling the trials and
disadvantages to which his young bride would be exposed at the mission,
a bright thought occurred to him. An American housekeeper w