is
companion, whom he had begun now to think of as a possible son-in-law.

"Wretched--foolish girl!" he said to himself, and leading the way, they
both entered the bothy.

"Mary!" he cried angrily, "I am here. What is the meaning of this?"

Daniel Barnett, who was quivering with jealous rage, expected to see the
bailiff's daughter spring to her feet, flushed with shame and dread, at
being surprised in such a position, but to his astonishment she hardly
stirred, merely raising her head a little to look gently and sadly in
her father's face as she said--

"I have come to bid poor John Grange good-bye."

"Without my leave!" stormed Ellis, "and like this. Mary! Shameless
girl, have you taken leave of your senses?"

She smiled at him sadly, and shook her head.

"Disgraceful!" cried Ellis. "What will Mr Barnett--what will every one
think of your conduct?"

He caught her hand in his rage, and drew her sharply away as he turned
to John Grange.

"And you, sir, what have you to say? Your weakness and injury are no
excuse. Everything possible has been done for you. We have all worked
for you, and tried to lighten your affliction; even now I have come with
Mr Barnett to see you off, and I find my kindness returned by a cruel,
underhanded, cowardly blow."

"Mr Ellis," began John, with his pale face flushing and his dark eyes
wandering as he tried to fix them upon the speaker's face.

"Silence, sir! How dare you! How long has this disgraceful business
been going on?"

"Oh, father, father!" cried Mary, clinging to him; "pray, pray say no
more. We are not alone."

"No," cried Ellis, who had now worked himself into a towering passion;
"we are not alone. Mr Barnett is here, a witness to the way in which
this man has prevailed upon you to set all common decency at defiance,
and come here alone. How long, I repeat, has this disgraceful business
been going on?"

Mary was about to speak, but at that moment John Grange raised himself
upon his elbow and said firmly--

"One moment, please, Mr Ellis; this is a matter solely between you and
me. If Daniel Barnett is here, surely it is his duty, as a man, to go."

"I don't take my instructions from you, sir," cried Ellis; "and I beg
and desire that Mr Barnett will stay and hear what I have to say to
you--you miserable, underhanded, contemptible hound."

John Grange flushed, and noted the "Mr" applied again and again to his
fellow-worker, and a pang of disappointme