e jarring of the bells done that. You don't expect a mushet of paper
to stand as firm as an anvil-stone, when Taylor John's a-swinging up
aloft."

"Look you," Westray said; "you were in church this morning. Do you
remember the lesson about the prophet sending his servant up to the top
of a hill, to look at the sea? The man went up ever so many times and
saw nothing. Last he saw a little cloud like a man's hand rising out of
the sea, and after that the heaven grew black, and the storm broke. I'm
not sure that bit of torn paper isn't the man's hand for this tower."

"Don't bother yourself," rejoined the clerk; "the man's hand showed the
rain was a-coming, and the rain was just what they wanted. I never can
make out why folks twist the Scripture round and make the man's hand
into something bad. 'Twas a _good_ thing, so take heart and get home to
your victuals; you can't mend that bit of paper for all your staring at
it."

Westray paid no attention to his remarks, and the old man wished him
good-night rather stiffly. "Well," he said, as he turned down the
ladder, "I'm off. I've got to be in my garden afore dark, for they're
going to seal the leek leaves to-night against the leek-show next week.
My grandson took first prize last year, and his old grandad had to put
up with eleventh; but I've got half a dozen leeks this season as'll beat
any plant that's growed in Cullerne."

By the next morning the paper strip was entirely parted. Westray wrote
to Sir George, but history only repeated itself; for his Chief again
made light of the matter, and gave the young man a strong hint that he
was making mountains of molehills, that he was unduly nervous, that his
place was to diligently carry out the instructions he had received.
Another strip of paper was pasted across the crack, and remained intact.
It seemed as if the tower had come to rest again, but Westray's
scruples were not so easily allayed this time, and he took measures for
pushing forward the under-pinning of the south-east pier with all
possible despatch.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

That inclination or predilection of Westray's for Anastasia, which he
had been able to persuade himself was love, had passed away. His peace
of mind was now completely restored, and he discounted the humiliation
of refusal, by reflecting that the girl's affections must have been
already engaged at the time of his proposal. He was ready to admit that
Lord Blandamer would in any case