lla Mountain.

. . . . .

That morning, after breakfast, I saw two people, a man and a woman, come
riding up to the garden gate. I knew who it was as far as I could see
'em--George Storefield and Gracey. He lifted her down, and they walked
up through the garden. I went a step or two to meet them. She ran
forward and threw herself into my arms. George turned away for a bit.
Then I put her by, and told her to sit down on the verandah while I had
a talk with George. He shook hands with me, and said he was glad to see
me a free man again. 'I've worked a bit, and got others to work too,'
says he; 'mostly for her, and partly for your own sake, Dick. I can't
forget old times. Now you're your own man again, and I won't insult you
by saying I hope you'll keep so; I know it, as sure as we stand here.'

'Look here, George,' I said, 'as there's a God in heaven, no man shall
ever be able to say a word against me again. I think more of what you've
done for me almost than of poor Gracey's holding fast. It came natural
to her. Once a woman takes to a man, it don't matter to her what he is.
But if you'd thrown me off I'd have not blamed you. What's left of Dick
Marston's life belongs to her and you.'

. . . . .

That day week Gracey and I were married, very quiet and private. We
thought we'd have no one at the little church at Bargo but George and
his wife, the old woman, and the chap as drove me home. Just as we
were going into the church who should come rattling up on horseback
but Maddie Barnes and her husband--Mrs. Moreton, as she was now, with a
bright-looking boy of ten or eleven on a pony. She jumps off and gives
the bridle to him. She looked just the same as ever, a trifle stouter,
but the same saucy look about the eyes. 'Well, Dick Marston,' says she,
'how are you? Glad to see you, old man. You've got him safe at last,
Gracey, and I wish you joy. You came to Bella's wedding, Dick, and so I
thought I'd come to yours, though you kept it so awful quiet. How d'ye
think the old horse looks?'

'Why, it's never Rainbow?' says I. 'It's twelve years and over since I
saw him last.'

'I didn't care if it was twenty,' said she. 'Here he is, and goes as
sound as a bell. His poor old teeth are getting done, but he ain't the
only one that way, is he, Joe? He'll never die if I can keep him alive.
I have to give him corn-meal, though, so as he can grind it easy.'

'I believe she thinks more of that old moke than