care for it. He delighted in launching the
bolts of his contempt on the whole of his
species. We have seen him at church on
Christmas morning, and what was the spirit
of his devotions.

But on New Year's Day he was going to
dine at Blant Farm with his sister, Mrs.
Ranford. She was a true woman! She had stood
firmly by him as a tower. " That was a
woman," he said, " true as steel, genuine
as God's day-light. He believed that the
whole crawling, creeping, venomous herd
of things called men, would have been
long ago swept into the Red Sea but for
the sake of one or two like her." That
day, after a hearty luncheon, Mr.
Longmore mounted his gig, and set out towards
Blant Farm. Little did he know that,
precisely at the same moment, Broadhurst of
Wainfleet mounted his gig and set out from
his own door towards the same Blant Farm.
The two men had to pursue the two sides of
a rectangular triangle which, at the distance
of about fourteen miles, would bring them to
a point exactly at Mrs. Ranford's gate. Had
Longmore known that fact, he would have
rushed again into his own house and believed
the end of the world come, since sister
Ranford could thus deceive him.  But Broadhurst
did know it, and  yet he went.  The fact was,
that certain things had taken place which, for
good reasons, neither Longmore nor the
reader have yet been informed of — the right
moment, it was thought, had not come.
Young Tom Broadhurst  had been so much
struck wlth Mary Longmore in his interview
at the park, that, from that moment, he felt
a wonderful persuasion that there had been
some gross mistake  in the whole business.
He was sure that truth and goodness beamed
as clearly out of those mild blue eyes, and
from those handsome, amiable features, as
light from the sun.  Longmore could not be a
very great rogue to have such a daughter;
and Mary thought Broadhurst could not be a
very great one to have such a son.  " What a
fine, frank fellow he seems," she said to
herself. " How willing he seems to believe the
truth.  What a beautiful earnestness in seeking
it out!"   In fact, there was a case, such
as lawyers seldom get upon their books, a case
of love at first sight.  It was a case clear,
positive, and most particular; Romeo and
Juliet themselves never stood so suddenly
enchanted between the hostile hosts of their
two fiery houses. Tom Broadhurst let no
grass grow under his feet ; he soon had his
father on the right track.  Mary and he met
—how many times?  Well, it really is amazing
how many times they found it necessary to
see each other in the course of a very few
weeks, to put things in a train.  Mrs Ranford
was soon taken into the secret, and with her
clear, strong mind, took in the whole thing,
the love affair and all, heartily. Mary passed
a deal of time at Blant Farm, and Tom Broadhurst
rode over there continually. It was
quite necessary!  But as to that love affair,
neither Longmore nor Broadhurst were
suffered to know a word of it. Tom said he
would not for the world that his father should
be suspected of having any interest in doing
justice to Mr. Longmore, but the justice itself;
and as to Longmore knowing! why, they
might just as well think of blowing up the
gas-works and all the steam engines in Boston
and Wainfleet! Then, indeed, Longmore
would declare Broadhurst a rogue, who was
for anything for his own interest!

But Mrs. Ranford was resolved on an
explanation, and therefore she planned the
bringing together her brother and Mr.
Broadhurst at her New-Year's Day dinner. It was
a daring project; it struck even Mary and
Tom Broadhurst with unutterable dismay.
Mrs. Longmore, who was in the secret, was
terrified beyond conception; it had actually
thrown her into a serious relapse.  But Mrs.
Ranford was a woman of  a bold spirit and
decisive will; she determined that the
experiment should be made. Mrs. Ranford
resembled her brother greatly in person; she
was a tall, large, florid, and very comely
woman, and ten years younger. Her
husband had been dead some years, and Mrs.
Ranford had had numbers of most
advantageous offers, but, no, she declared that
she was married to her dear Ned; he was
only gone on the journey that she should
take after him some day. She would not have
two husbands.   Mrs. Ranford was a first-rate
farmer; her house stood on the top of that
step of country that runs on through Lincoln,
and looked far and wide over the flats below;
it was a good farm-house, with a flower-garden
and with outbuildings, and stock that showed
her management and science; she led a life
very much to her taste, and ruled very much
in her own way, and was resolved now to try
her power over her brother. " It was time to
put an end to all this heart-burning and
misunderstanding ; " she said, " There had been
enough of it."

Longmore drove that afternoon over those
immense flats that lie between Boston and
Blant Farm. The air was clear and very
keen; the whole country was one level sheet
of whiteness, only here and there broken by a
long line of stunted willows, one of those funny
little windmills that are set by the sluggish
dykes to propel the water, a solitary willow-
surrounded farm, with an occasional round
haystack eaten out by the cattle into the
shape of a huge mushroom, or a dreary
stretch of black fir-trees far away in the
distance. It was little more than four o'clock
when Longmore was ascending the steep hill
to Blant Farm, but it was already dark,
piercing cold, and some fine flakes of snow
made him say to himself, "We shall have
another downfall." Mrs. Ranford's dinner
was not till six o'clock, but she had begged
her brother to be there early, both on account
of the short days and because she wanted