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jai t st 1.71 ..HI M, «- CHAPTER XVln. I The Penance of Jock the Penman. 0n^ere 8ti" regained to me to make the ac- ths!t-tance °* "3e s0,e daughter'of.Malise McKim, Jet 8!Eter of Sbolto aud Laurence. She was not hart IXtesn yeara °f aSe> but already her name g, a Rone wide athwart the country. Yet withal lik Waa a 8traD £ ° —with a look on her face t0 one who had spoken with the Little op'e, so they said. her mother had told me, she loved the wild hill kQtter than the village street, the heathery th more than the noise ot the market place, *.amalt of the fair, or even the genial push jostle of the tourney, when folk of all de- looked o?er one another's shoulders. But still I had not set eyes upon this marvel. "ooemorniDg, waking early, I heard two of t^r soldiers of the guard— A'Hannays both of #—Gib the Brown and Kirsten the Bed, Se c0Q6 £ on the atone balcony fce- m? chamber, where their natch had been ,e'1by Sholto McKioi. ■"■hoy had taken leave to rest their halberds in th« °rner' anc' to 'ean nP°a the balaaters with Am e^hows;(God help them if Sholto, or even *o the Penman came their way). v f 0 were owsr by at the Three Thorns »U •eeD* Kirsten?" inquired Oib the Brown, a subject which in spite of his air of ochalance was evidently near his heart, saw (^ht o' the Flooer-o'-the-Haw ?" by this name, it appeared that the men of. I Thrieve guard and the councry folk about of the daughter of the aromoaror.) 'l-. he Red one shrugged his shoulders and* meditatively. iVv *he Flooer—no," answered Kirsten, softly, *«Ut the Thorn—aye. The Thorn was there." oam' on Malise McKim, then.—What **]dhe till ye." i, Said,' quo' he," growled Kirsten the Red, ;°.'h o' Peter an' Paul, I didna wait for what ^said. 1 kenned the auld man's fit, and I left Gib. ye may tak' your oath on that. I ^tbe veacinity." j». how ltennod ye the fit o* Malise Mc ?" inquired Gib. Jo t aten t'ie *1bc1 turns^ upon his Kinsman a ok of mingled city and contempt. • Gib," he said, it's little that ye ken. I «Ufisd Malise's fit by the sign that it liftit me sax feet into the air, wi'a spang like a i*»e«a Pn^doc^ loupin' into a pool. So I cam' tb ■ Aye, Kirsten A'Hannay cam'awa'fra and waited for nae leave-takkin' either. w Umph," retorted Gib, but > e are a poor en hantam to fight a man. Noo,ifithad t." A'llan- fiercely, if ye think ye can do mair nor come your ways doon to the green yonder I Or 0Qr watch ia lifted,and I'll show you. Aye, better yet, gang to the well-yett o' Carlinwark W?,e three whustles like this—— tab 18 Kirsten imitated the call of the peewit moor with great exactness. Then he n>i?rbed" Saul's health," he cried, then ye # ken whether ye are welcome or no at the \h y °' the Three Thorns—thro' the shape o'j? 6 aaid man's brogans." !j this point there was a hurried rush to arms. Wl* 80un^ °f footstepB approached from below, Rtn asra'n receded. Instantly halberds were and the peaceful confabulation A'Hannays continued over the parapet." say, Gib, she's maiat awesome bonny—yon re epeakin', Red Kirafcen," replied bis Qsin. Then with a groan he added, but, oh j~*D, whiles I'm feared till I sweat that she's no th' °* na' Gib. There was yetmg Jock j 6 Penman—they say he made up till her yae ^^on the road to Ba'maghie Kirk—near by the •aid °' ^ochar. And my faith, I kenna what he jd to her, but she bade him gang an' seat bim- on the mock'e stane in the midst of the ford j^h«y oaa' jj; Black Douglas, ye ken. And '•to to ait there for a day and nicht witboot Peech, or else she wad tell her faither, and bar .n brithera the words he had spoken till her." to Lord sake, ye, tell > me sae ? And did he CftOg ?' ■ oJ Gang, Kirsten,8 continued Gib, solemnly. L there waenae two ways aboot that. He >2* j0n a' diajaskit an* drookit-like (for had to wade to the oxters and him dressed in wL Kreen velvets). Aye, as the stane was tner- fclihlri8 he had to sit on bis hunkers, like a boolet in the sunshine a* the the kirk fols were gaun' by. An' siccan and lauchin' as there waa at him, bot- n there, wi' the caller Dee water Baopy and ?toon about hishurdiea.an' the ill-fanred laddies F the kirk clachan flingin' stanea an' dirt him. Eb, bat it was graund to see." ■a ^iraten ma3e silent contortions indicative o '•ght. 418. an' yince he inrned his back on the ford, J*1'* lassie McKim (I never thocht she had as Jackie spunk in her) garred bim turn him again face the folk as they gaed planterin an' folaahin' through the shallow on horse and on And sae there sat Jock till what time Sir giirry the parson had said his mass, and the folk were on their road back again. Then r*ft''8e McKim spied Maister Jock sittin' a' '?Cwied up on the Black Dooglas—his chin on toCL-ITees end dreepin' like sea-weed on a tide- i' What's that fnle doin' there, Magdalen ?' "•jdRTaiise. Dad yon not better ask him, faitber,* said lase, speakin' mim an' denty like a wee white water." J*, M'o," sighed Kirsten, she canna help it# a an airt she baes." Better ask at him, had I ? growls Malise, >' a'^h, ricbt snna I'll do the speerin' Bae doon he gangs to the water-side on that t Flanders beast o' his that wad carry a o' wine, and be stands a bit while intent Pee'^u' object on the Black Dooglas. an' aye, better'lookin'. And them that there telled me that it was better nor a in0»VB-play. when the black deils come chasin' ■w ^*ter the ill-doers, wi' their reid-het pinceis. «en what wi' the sparks o" forty years'smidd- Mali?e wrinkles up his face into knots,and oof8 d00° broos till he girns at ye like a fox o\ a whun buch. This time, they eay, he fair fearsome to see." j, ^Vba are ye and what are ye floin" there on I?6 Lord's Day morning ?' says Malise in a voice ihf-i0ear shook Jock the Penman aff the Btane Vr;1' the water. Is this the feast o' the King o' 'tI. øru Ie?' ^But Jock he said naethin', himkennin' An' BQ3 Malise cries oot again. Tell me •tito' ^or -7e aro B'ttjn' there like a popi njay on a Vg^e, makin' yoursel* a cockshy for a' the bairns and rake-the- OtrieF, in ten pairisbes ? Is that the way to your maister respeckit ?' V& Jock said naething. For the lass "tannin' watchin' on the shore." (oi» k^ae w'* fchat Malise began to wade in to him his muckle Flamand. In bis hand the smith 0> pa branch o* an oak be bad poo'ed in the wood f.Gleniochar, an' as he took his beaat into the Hul<i he strlppit the cudgel to the white. And e&Ose Jock the Penman sat still, because he jj^edna steer, the fear bein' on him, Malise ^st .him up like a half-drooned kitten, an' him across his saddle-bow. •* I did it for a penance,' say3 Jock at last, a vow.' And had the stake been the J|8,tion o' his sanl, that was as near the truth bode to come that day. whatever." Ia wae's me, when Malise had brocht him l»jjhe shore, there was the lass waitin', an' Jock ^/Jed me after, that his verra bowels turned to o«>l w'th»n him when he saw her. But she w y said, calm and saftlike as rain in snmmer nae wind is, What was it that ye said to m. • John the t Pen man, as ye gaed oot through ^oods o' Lochar ?' .Q' for the life o' him Jock could think o' s|| 'better to answer than that he had aajd bormyday for the folk to gang kirk ward, 8a'n their sowls hearkenin' to the holy and words o' Mess Haijry, the paraon o' .Nothing more than that ?' she said, it >n my head that ye said mair nor that.' Naething,' cries Jock, but that if it were Lard-S ain wull, a drap or twa o' water wnd Cl for the crops.' 3ae ye bode to hae the bale flood o* the °* Dre to keep yersel' happy, y nnm- '» said Malise. setting Jock on the ground shake that garred bis teeth chatter in their It tfc. A0|J whan next you say your prayers for **in at Maaa,' Magdalen put in, • and for aijT aPon ths crops, let yonr place of oratoiy be than the middle o' Doe Water, and your 0' a fitter place than the Black Dooglas i. Wh A.-Ve. see to it,' growled Malise. 'Mind Witk laas says, or else will I break thy head r^thia cudgel.' 3?Jiq 60 there was a pause as I abode listening. 0| j l*o men stood silently digesting the tale Penman. It seemed to have a per- il A^our for them. *WTu wbat th'nk ye, Gib, after a* said Kir- 1*8^,7 Red, "was it that Jock said to the answered Gib, senten*iously, has •« v»hean revealed —but——" feftvi.'r0? what; ?" said Kirsten, whose temper was W longest. j>ee,> gin ony body ocht to ken what Jock te snirl to Magdalen McKim, it should ^#tein Ise'' A'Han nay. Ye hae had ex- *h(j Tak' my advice, an' keen far yont frae Thorns. They are no a canny set, oieKim. ^aa Rilense again from that point foi minutes—a silence stva^iaed and disagree- I, f b.an Wfly," faid Gib, breaking it fiercely, ] 5«°eea taen't 'ike a lamb. i no," cried his cousin, wool, ye'H nc ^th^ m° cotnplain a'—there? And there [ I could hear the rush of the two A'Hannays to the corner where tiiay had piled their arms, and the first click of the halberds as the weapons came to the engage. But as I did not wish two of Hholto's best weii put hors de combat for a few foolish words, I slipped out on the balcony and called down to them. Have ye seen Sir Sholto MeKim ? Pray send him up to me." They were standing, breathing hard, their beadfo thrown back, foot to ioot, weapon to weapon, as is the way of their fighting race. For the A'Hannays can never hold land long, however they may gain it. They fall afighting among themselves when there is none other to strive with, and after the battle the land generally goes to the sole surviving cousin in the twentieth degree of re- lationship. So when Gib the Brown and Kirsten the Red saw me, they drew themselves up and oaluted. "Now," I ordered them severely, let there be no more of this, or I will have you both in the dungeon of Archibald the Grim, on bread and water for a week-aye, and little enough of the, first. This is no place for pikes and partisans wbea every good Douglas is wanted. If ye have ought to say to one another, go down to the green and say it with your fists like men." CHAPTER XIX. The Scent of the White Thorn, Still I bad not seen Magdalen McKim. I was resolved that no longer would I miaa^ my mark. So that vary afternoon I sent Andro the Penman, whose swarthy countenance a.nd tdetorauna.tB bacbelordom protected, bim from any misconceptions as to his purpose, on mission to the Three Thorns of Carlinwark. With him I sent a. jewel of price to Magdalen, —a cross made of a great "moonstone, set abont, with black diamonds, of Saracen work—brought, so they aaid.from the Holy Land by some crusad- ing Douglas. And with it I sent thelatter-which follows — Sweet Magdalen and my little Foster bistor, —I have heard speak of you. often and mickle. Yet has it never been my lot to see you. Will you bring your Father and Dame Barbara, with as many of your brothers as can be spared, to the Thrieve to-morrow—that I may see :you, and- know you for, as they report of yon, the fairest. and honestest maiden Galloway. This I desire all the more, that, befCIs. I was wedded and so in one day grew an old woman, folk were used to call me also The Fair Maid of Galloway.' This I signed with the name, which (at that time) I hact resolved should never be changed- Margaret Douglas.' And then I waited, expec- tant as a lover for the coming of this marvel aud inon-such-the flower of all the white thorns that ever grew by the shores of Carlinwurk. It chanced that I awoke very early and looked across the little garden wherein, upon the moist and .fertile soil washed by the river flourished the flowering rusb and the bachelor's button, with the wild vino of Touraine climbing up the twin ilex oaks, which had been brought all the way from Rome, and planted against the warm south looking wall of Thrieve. There were Margaret on-the terrace was throwing corn to the doves. to the do.\i'es. open spaces, too. where, kept: in countenance by gillyflower and the royal brake, there were begin- ning to take root those pretty dainty bunches called the Fair Maid of France," which the Siear Paul had aenfc over the eeas to remind me of Cour Cheverney. Only on this southern face, under my window, waa there any green leafage about Castle Thrieve. On every other side the castle rose clear, grey, lonely --ast.-ong tower for defence, a bold against the storms of war; as indeed it had already been for geuerations-kiquare, bare, and upstanding as if in acorn of compromise. „ But now I lovad the little garden best of. all perhaps because my dear Lady's Bower was de. serted. I bad do desire to go thither. Two men seemed to stand between me and it—the two whom I had seen ride away together, each watching the other,, behind c the fatal Hiding Hill It was very early when I ?u6 on the morning we were to see Magdalen at Thrieve. The river whimpled below, glimmering like the inside-of a. pearl aheU-the little flecks of rosy cloud driven np from tile slwt, being, however, smilingly reflected in the grey. I coaid see the water wander away between the dark meadows till it drew to a point and was lost in the distance. As I leaned from the window of my chamber I felt a damp chill striKe suddenly through me. The dew-dropping trees in the little garden shivered, though there was no wind. I also shuddered as if I had been one of them. Over yonder waa the hill of Cadinwatk, the clouds of dawn reddening behind it. Why should Fear haunt me and the trees of my Rardentremblo as if someone were treading upon my grave ? Could aught of evil be coming to me from Over Yonder f Surely not—only the daintiest, the most cent, and the sweetest maid'in Galloway-mag- dalen, the daughter of the armonrer of Carlin- wark,"that rare blossom of the May and the flower of the white and scented thorn. She came punctually at ten o'clock of the day, her mother Dame Barbara and Malise her tatner being with her. I was startled at first. I re- membered her as a little child with a noss of golden hair and eyes like the sun shining on a mountain lake—at once dark and bright. -J-hsre was no doubt ahout it — little Magdalen McKim had grown into a bewitching woman yes, a woman, though according to her yeareanct to:ber cleaning she was yet no more than a cniin. Of her complexion she was fair. dazzlinRjy lair j '—as blonde aa I (being a Douglas) waa dark. Aa to her coif, it was marvellous. Each individual hair stood out like a wire of gold, infinitely fil)e, wavingjand crisping to bar. waist. So light the fleece was. the wind blew it this way and that m wisps, as mist is blown about the hill-topa. In Magdalen's eyes there was the depth of water seen under the shade of great ancestral trees. What colour they were — green, blue, hazel, or violet—I could not tell. Chiefly, I think, they changed according to the thought that stirred behind. The girl's skin was clear and flashed easily to a dainty rose. Something innocent and appeat- ing looked ont from under her eyelashes afc- you. claiming protection even before the full and Etraciona smile of her month had said trust yon." t And so at long, at last, here Magdalen of the Three Thorns. I went down myself to meet her, bat when; x would have embraced her first,%he directed metoi her mother. She will be disappointed, else" she whis- pered. bending from her saddle. I And so I kissed my old nurse first of all, and then holding the girl at arm's length, examined her from head to foot. The time being sammer, she was clad in plain white linen cloth, fresh from bleaching upon the green grass of the ) Carlinwark meadows,and her hair was kept from straying by a snood or band of blue ribbon, broader than usual, which passed about ber small and shapely head. With that came Maud out also, smiling sweetly, and full of content with ber life, her babes, her husband. Maud conld think wisely and well for others-witnsss how she had thought for me- il bat really her aoul abode within her, content, un- fretted, sufficient to itself as that of a. good mother should, the young birds being still in the neet. And so we went in, and afterwards Malise came and joined ua in the grea.t hall, refuBing, however, to sit down in the presence of his mis- I ticaa. "The boys?" he grumbled, I might say rumpled, when I had asked him why they had not all come, na, na-they are better at hame. Twa sons o' mine are lost to the anvil and the hammer. If a' o' them gaed the way of Prior Laurence yonder, and Sir Sholto here-what I would come c' the atmoarer-ship to the Doug- lases o' Thrieve, whilk hath been io my family ) ever since there was a Douglas to go forth to battle, cr a McKim to St him tgt it^Wt -v StCGl harness and sword o' mettle ?" f Na, na, goi.d lads, hide where ye are,' says I. And guid lads they are. But spoil a McKim an' ye mak' a devil unpitted. So I e'en set them their tasks and explained what would happen | gin they werena dune by the doon-lettin' o' the J nicht." f "• The Lord help ye,' said, I, But:they | kenned fa' weel that He wadna." 1 I It was to me a day moat mefixorabla,; that, I August coon and afternoon'when from the Three j Thorna of Carlinwark, Magdalen McKim came firss into mv house ai Thrieve. At this distance; 1 of time, and after all that ;g.come and gone, it f is hard for me to detach myself and convey to' l those who never set eye upon this girl, any true idea of the wonderful charm of her girlhood. There have been beautiful and gracious women ¡ not a. few whom I have seen and known—chiafest of course, Maud Lindsay and Mistress Agnes Sorel-" La Belie des Belles." But the like of Magdalen McKim as she was at fifteen. I have never saen—child-woman v^ and woman-child in one. I cannot mind me of any groat thing we either said or did. We went into the south garden, I know, under the shadow of the Hex or Lady s Oak, where I had had seats placed Mapd Lmd- say came to us time and again as the duties of I her housekeeping and nursery permitted. But mostly she left us alone to make acquaintance, taking Dame Barbara off with her to count baby linen and appraise napery, while Malise wont the rounds of the armoury wih his son Sholto, growl- ing at the specks of rust to other eyes invisible, and informing the Captain of the Guard for the hundredth time how differently things were managed when ho wail in residence at Thrieve —" ia the Tineman's time," as he was careful to add. Doubtless," answered Sholto, growing at last a little nettled, "but then, if.our arms-are not so clean we do not lose so many: battlsa with them." But more heads, growled the ancient armourer in his beard. And there would have been less of that same if the young Earl WTlliam would have taken my advice. Bnt 'tis not too late, even yet. Yonder, to begin with, are Chancellor Crichton and Tutor Livingstone, that carry on their shoulders a pair of bosses that would be none the worse of a snedding." Sholto langhad, placing hia hand,affectionately on his father's arm. But did you ever hear of a right Douglaa yet," he said, that would take advice 1" Malise shook his head, nerhaps" remembering my krothers. TbanhcsighecL "Never if it was guid advice. Or frae a man," he added softly, and as if recalling something to his mind woeful and heavy with Fate. So in the south garden Magdalen and I eat,; the white doves that swooped and circled abont, plumping upon the scattered grains of corn, not more innocently happy. I asked her after a iwhile concerning her lovers and the men who came to the Three Thorna to woo her—of whose number and varied qualifications I had heard so great an account. Magdalen smiled softly, with a swiftly pass- ing reminiscence of her father's bnmooT in her eyes. Then they took on again the misty look of hills seen through an April shower. "Aye,aye," she said. there is a deal of work to be done about the armoury—work that take! time, work that has to be waited for. And there; are lads, and brisk lads, too, that cock their headsout*ofS the smithy door when my mother steps across to the bleaching green, or one of my brothers comes ben for a drink of water. But," here she smiled softly. since John the Penman did his watery penance on the atone cairn, there has been;more of peace about the house-place of the Three Thorns." Who are they that come ?" I said, not, I think, out of curoaity, but just because I wanted to know. For the things which happen to Ii one girl always interest another. So, to encourage her, I told her of Cour Che- verney, of the gallant knights there, and of bow 1 liked Laurence, her brother, best of all. At which she smiled, and had for a moment the same childish, all-forgetful look which I had seen in Larry's eyes when he was setting the little mill-wheels running in the tumbte of the Touraine brooks. Then, very carefully, I spoke concerning William, my husband of how wise he waa, how- brave in word and act. praising him at the ex- pense of bis brothers, to see what she would say. For women do'those things the one to the other. Then, after a silence, my reward came. Mag- dalen flashed out But was it not true-Bo, at least, I was told tbat Lord James conquered in the tonrney, even as, when he was but a boy, he did at Stir- ling, against the knijggs of Bargandis-?" So with that I turned and said to the girl, ""Hath my coujin, James |Dougla8, by any chance been often over at the Three Thorns ?" But sha answered me quite steadily, with her own sweet and constant humility-,&- reproof in itself. "Nay." she said, he is over-greatalord to "think of me nevertheless. I have seen him ride by when I was gathering flowers-yes, ever since I was a little girl, whom he would take UP on .his saddle before him, being kind. But now that' I am too old for suchlike, he will, when he meets ,me, dismonnt and walk a little way, asking con- cernedly/for/my fatherjind brothers, with whom, 'he was in France, and for whom; he charrebes- 1 ova and affection pastjhe common—— Ah, yes," said F, auch affection is ncore- 'commoD than yea anpDOse, aweet Magdalen. But even then the girl took no-offence, nor dreamed of snch a tbtagasiroay/being simple and-pure, and set abont wiili Btrong brothers and- a father, that had a name upon the earth, whom no man—no, not even James Dooglas would care ,to cross in his-angers. She did not even look up, but want,cD throwing corn to the doves, pile by pile. For the which, Sholtocoming.io».brother- like, reproved her. "Ye may do as ye like at the Thtea Thorns and--welcome." be said, "bat herel am in charge of the larder of Thrieve. And since it has been ^prophesied that there shall be eieiege of the place within three years, there are horaea and men that may be glad of the grain yon ace Hinging BO freely to those fat squabs." And since it was our Douglas way never to 'interfere with any otnan in hia jurisdiction and responsibility, I said nothing. Indeed I would have saia aa mcie naa ne reprjvea me—sach being his right and doty. Bat Magdalen blushed. orimson athwait the white of her cheeks. 1 am sorry, she looked with a certain appeal at me. "We are all his, slaves here," Itvbiapered, wait till he is gone." Than there came a voice from the window above. Come np hither and hold the babe while I see to the chambers. These lazy Blata leave half their work undone. This itia to live in a castle with a. puard of men-folk in the hall beneath." Wa both knew the voice of Mand Lindsay and very hurriedly and with long strides Sholto de- parted to do the duty of parent auxiliary. I laughed aloud when he was fairly gone. Ab, little girl," I cried, it is well that there is something up yonder whieh can tame even a captain of the Guard. Hearken." And clearly through the opea lattice there came the sonnd of a babe's crying. s That makes us all slaves," I said. Then at the words I flushed hot as tires And swiftly, causelessly, as if also aahamsd or affrayed, Magdalen nestled up against me. (To be Coatinned.)

MAYOR OF CARDIFF ON EARLY-FORMED…

NOT USED TO THE WORK.

DIED AT A REVIVAL MEETING.,

I COMPLETE STORY.

BOYS' DARING TILL ROBBERY.

!UPSET IN THE STREET.

Uandilo Assault Case.

THE LLANDAFF TRAGEDY.

LOSS OF MEMORY.

IN AID OF NEWPORT HOSPITAL.

[No title]

Mr Lloyd George, M.P„ íat…

CARDIFF MUSICAL FESTIVAL,…

RAN AFTER A CAT. ^

[No title]