y, but after some little
consideration. "The facts I will declare, and not a lie among 'em."

"That will be a novelty," thought her cynical hearer, but he held his
tongue, and looked respectfully attentive.

"Colonel Clifford," said Mrs. Dawson, "hates Bartley like poison, and
Bartley him. The Colonel vows he will have him off the land and out
of the bowels of the earth, and he have sent him a lawyer's letter;
for everything leaks out in this village, along of the servants'
chattering. Bartley he don't value a lawyer's letter no more than
that. He defies the Colonel, and they'll go at it hammer and tongs at
the 'Sizes, and spend a mint of money in law. That's one side of the
question. But there's another. Master Walter is deep in love with
Miss Mary."

"Who is she?"

"Who is she? Why, Bartley's daughter, to be sure; not as I'd believe it
if I hadn't known her mother, for she is no more like him in her looks or
her ways than a tulip is to a dandelion. She is the loveliest girl in the
county, and better than she's bonny. You don't catch _her_ drawing bridle
at her papa's beer-house, and she never passes my picture. It's 'Oh, Mrs.
Dawson, I _am_ so thirsty, a glass of your good cider, please, and a
little hay and water for Deersfoot.' That's her way, bless your silly
heart! _She_ ain't dry; and Deersfoot, he's full of beans, and his coat's
like satin; but that's Miss Mary's way of letting me know that she's my
customer, and nobody else's in the town. God bless her, and send her many
happy days with the man of her heart, and that is Walter Clifford, for
she is just as fond of him as he is of her. I seen it all from the first
day. 'Twas love at first sight, and still a-growing to this day. Them old
fogies may tear each other to pieces, but they won't part such lovers as
those. There's not a girl in the village that doesn't run to look at
them, and admire them, and wish them joy. Ay, and you mark my words, they
are young, but they have got a spirit, both of them. Miss Mary, she looks
you in the face like a lion and a dove all in one. They may lead her, but
they won't drive her. And Walter, he's a Clifford from top to toe.
Nothing but death will part them two. Them's the facts, sir, without a
lie, which now I'm a-waiting for judgment."

"Mrs. Dawson," said Monckton, solemnly, "since you do me the honor to ask
my opinion, I say that out of these facts a row will certainly arise, and
a deadly one."

"It must, sir; and Wil