other than that of Broadhurst — Longmore
trembled with excitement at the sound.
" Silence! " — said Broadhurst — "I cannot
allow you to say a word against Mr.
Longmore. I tell you, and I if any man should
know, he has been foully injured and
misrepresented. It was all a mistake, and that
bad woman clenched it. No! Longmore  —
and I beg you will everywhere say so, from
me—Longmore, from what I have lately
learned, is as noble, true-hearted a man as
ever lived. Sir, I would give my right-hand
to do him justice; and justice, if there is a
God in heaven, he will yet have done him."

"Lord-o'-mercy! " exclaimed the landlord,
"do you say so? " "Yes, I say so," replied
Broadhurst; " till justice is done to that man
the load of a mountain lies on my heart."

Longmore turned deadly pale as he heard
these words. He sunk down again upon the
sofa, whence he had started on hearing these
voices, laid his head on the table, and seemed
shaken by some terrible convulsion. In
another minute he rose up, still pale, but
with an eager look passed out of the room,
entered that where Broadhurst was, and,
putting out his hand to the astonished lawyer,
said, " I heard what you said — I believe you."
The lawyer, still more astonished, and looking
as if an apparition had suddenly stood before
him — yet clutched at the offered hand—
seemed to groan out rather than speak,
" Almighty God be thanked! " and the two
desperate foes stood thus till a gush of tears
appeared on Broadhurst's face. " Now, God
be praised, all is right," Broadhurst again
ejaculated. " Yes! — all is right! " repeated
Longmore.

"You must dine with me," said Broadhurst.
" Good God, what have I not to say to you!"

"Nay," said Longmore, " we must not dine
here. Think how we left them at my sister's.
We must go there at once."

" Right! Right!" said Broadhurst, and the
next moment the astonished people in the
kitchen saw these two men, who for years
had been engaged in such a deadly strife,
going arm-in-arm swiftly out of the house.

What the state of affairs was at Mrs.
Ranford's may well be imagined. Mary was
overwhelmed with the most vehement grief;
Tom Broadhurst stood over her, holding her
hand, and every now and then bidding her to
be comforted — all would go well yet — all the
time looking himself a picture of despair.
Mrs. Ranford, after marching to and fro in
great agitation, and abusing her brother,
heartily, as the most obstinate of animals, had
sat down, moodily, in her easy-chair, by the
fire, and seemed more in a state of deep anger
than of sorrow.  Her scheme had failed
signally, as everyone had told her it would; she
had, to all appearance, aggravated affairs
dreadfully; she was too much mortified to be
really sorry. The clergyman and his wife
came in. They saw at a glance what had
happened. A few indignant words from Mrs.
Ranford, and Mary's tears, told everything.
There fell a deep and blank silence on the
party. What a New Year's dinner-party!
Never was there such a wretched scene of
utter desolation. In the midst of it came a
violent ring at the bell. All started. Mary
Longmore gave a shriek, and stood trembling
with clasped hands and death-like face.
" Something dreadful has happened to that
wilful man! " exclaimed Mrs. Ranford going
impetuously towards the door. At that
moment the door opened, and Longmore and
Broadhurst entered together. Before any of
them could recover from their astonishment,
Longmore said, "It is all right! " and caught
his sister in his arms, and embraced and
kissed her outrageously. Then he caught his
daughter to his heart, who, at those words,
flew to him, and embraced and kissed her still
more outrageously. Then he shook hands
with Tom Broadhurst and the clergyman,
both together; and they shook his hands,
and he shook theirs again; and then he
would most likely have kissed the clergyman's
lady, only she and Mrs. Ranford were most
passionately kissing and crying at one another
at the very time.

Never was there such a hearty, cordial,
general reconciliation and felicitation. Longmore
seemed at one effort to have flung off all
his gall and misanthropy. In the midst of
their joy, they seemed to forget the other
great event of their meeting — the dinner;
the hour was long past. Nobody before had
had any inclination to eat, from sorrow; now
they had forgotten it, for joy. But at length,
up came the turkey, up came the roast beef,
up came the game, the plum-pudding, and all
the tarts, mince-pies, and knick-nackeries;
and what a dinner was there after all! How
triumphant Mrs. Ranford looked! Her
generalship had succeeded after all. How bright
Mary looked; how pleased Tom and his father
looked! and as for Mr. Longmore, he never
seemed so large, so florid, so jovial; all his
old jollity and grandeur of good-heartedness
seemed come back again at once. Everybody
wondered, as they came to look at each other,
and smile at each other, and talk to each
other, how in the world it was possible that
people, so excellent as they were, and so made
for each other's society, could have made such
a dismal blunder as they had made. Mary
observed, with a quiet smile, that Oliver
Goldsmith had explained it all long ago.

"How so? " asked her father, astonished.
" How could he, when he did not know us ? "

"Well," said Mary, " he must have known
us, or people exactly like us — for he said that
all this sort of thing came of people not knowing
one another."

"God bless us! " said Longmore, looking
quite astonished, " how precisely true that is!
Let us drink to Oliver's immortal memory."

"With all our hearts!" was echoed from
all sides of the table.