that they've
forgotten, would not rush over 'em, and that their hearts would not be
moved to the very core, and that they would not just _have_ to forgive
each other? Why! I can fairly see 'em together now, lass, and it's
going to be all reet, and--and--and--" He was actually too full for
further utterance, and bending down clasped his equally moved listener
in his arms, and just hugged her.

When Mary finally managed to extricate herself from his arms, he gave
further vent to his feelings by cutting a series of remarkable capers,
doubtless a species of ancient dance, in which (undignified as
doubtless it would have been) Mary, who had caught the contagion of
his happiness, would, I believe, eventually have joined, had he not
suddenly hove to.

Hurrying to her side, he said, between his gasps for breath, "And now
for the plot, lass. I'll go and get the boots, wrap 'em up, and put
'em on the table theere. Then thou must go and tell the missus that
there's a parcel for her on the table. Thou wilt manage, of course, to
get out o' the room before she can tell thee to fetch it. As for me,
when I know that she's found it, I'll go to the maister and deliver a
like message to him, and also get away before he can tell me to bring
it. And then, lass, he'll catch her when her heart's full--and then we
shall see!"

His genial old coat-tails were flashing out of the room before Mary
could say a word in reply.

As she sank breathlessly down on her chair, she exclaimed: "Ah, but I
am excited and moved!"

She had scarcely time to wipe her eyes when John flashed back again,
his spectacles in one hand and a small parcel in the other. "Theere
they are, lass," he almost shouted as he laid the parcel hurriedly on
the table. "And now, Mary, quick, go and tell her, and as soon as she
finds 'em I'll go and fix the maister."

Mary needed no second bidding, but hurried away, while John left by a
door that led to his master's study.

CHAPTER III.

RECONCILED.

"But ties around this heart were spun
That could not, would not, be undone!"

When Mrs. Townsley entered the parlor her face was pale and careworn.
As she seated herself some little distance from the table, bearing the
precious parcel upon which so many hopes were now founded, she looked
up at the clock.

"I could not go out to-night; he will be leaving soon"--there was a
touch of wistfulness in her voice. She sat for a little time sadly
turning round and ro