e for the sake of one of her children, a little boy, who
required the best medical advice."

At the words "medical advice" Morgan shook his head and growled to
himself contemptuously. Owen went on:

"While she was attending in this way to one child, his share in her love
was unexpectedly disputed by another, who came into the world rather
before his time. I baptized the baby, and was asked to the little
christening party afterward. This was my first introduction to the lady,
and I was very favorably impressed by her; not so much on account of
her personal appearance, for she was but a little wo man and had no
pretensions to beauty, as on account of a certain simplicity, and
hearty, downright kindness in her manner, as well as of an excellent
frankness and good sense in her conversation. One of the guests present,
who saw how she had interested me, and who spoke of her in the highest
terms, surprised me by inquiring if I should ever have supposed that
quiet, good-humored little woman to be capable of performing an act of
courage which would have tried the nerves of the boldest man in England?
I naturally enough begged for an explanation; but my neighbor at the
table only smiled and said, 'If you can find an opportunity, ask her
what happened at The Black Cottage, and you will hear something that
will astonish you.' I acted on the hint as soon as I had an opportunity
of speaking to her privately. The lady answered that it was too long
a story to tell then, and explained, on my suggesting that she should
relate it on some future day, that she was about to start for her
country home the next morning. 'But,' she was good enough to add, 'as I
have been under great obligations to you for many Sundays past, and as
you seem interested in this matter, I will employ my first leisure time
after my return in telling you by writing, instead of by word of mouth,
what really happened to me on one memorable night of my life in The
Black Cottage.'

"She faithfully performed her promise. In a fortnight afterward I
received from her the narrative which I am now about to read."

BROTHER OWEN'S STORY

OF

THE SIEGE OF THE BLACK COTTAGE.

To begin at the beginning, I must take you back to the time after my
mother's death, when my only brother had gone to sea, when my sister was
out at service, and when I lived alone with my father in the midst of a
moor in the west of England.

The moor was covered with great limestone rocks, and in