ever get to be a master builder, you could
help me with the books."

"I hate books, and I hate summing worse
than anything!" retorted the perverse damsel,
pouting.

John looked down at her half grieved and
half admiring. She looked prettier than ever
when she was rebellious. "Now, Lina, that's
just to plague me," said he; "as if I were
not bad enough without.  Just give me one
smile before I go—here's your father coming."

"La, John, how silly you are!  Well, I'm
going to Bartinglas feast on Thursday, and
you may go with me if you like—does that
please you?" John showed by his face that
it did, and then as Lina's father reeled round
the hedge he departed; for old Fernie was
quarrelsome in his cups with friend and foe,
but especially with a friend.

II.

To Bartinglas feast together went John
and Lina, it being generally understood now
by the friends and relatives of both parties
that they were keeping company.  But if
John anticipated that he should keep Lina
to himself all the day of the feast he was
woefully mistaken.  The admiration of one
was by no means sufficient to satisfy her
craving, and she gadded about from place to
place in search oi' other acquaintance, letting
John see that he was far from necessary to
her. But his greatest grievance was, that
when it was decent time to go home, Lina
announced her determination to stay for a
dance that was to take place in the long room
of the public-house. John was not a
frequenter of public-houses, and the idea that
Lina should wish to enter such a place and
join in such revelry as these rustic dances
are, equally mortified and astonished him.
He remonstrated and she pouted; she said
he might go home and she would return with
her cousins; but to this he would not agree,
and the end was that Lina capered through
half-a-dozen country dances with half-a-dozen
fresh partners while John propped his back
sulkily against the white-washed wall, and
looked on disgusted.  If he had broken with
her that night, as she tried her utmost to
make him do, it would have been all the
better for him; but John was infatuated;
and, though it hurt him to see his mother's
grieved and angry face when he told her the
reason of his late return from the feast, still
he would not listen to a single word said in
disparagement of Lina, and he would have
bitten out his tongue rather than utter one.

From that evening at Bartinglas poor John
never had a happy hour again, never a day's
peace or ease of mind.  Though Lina soon
after pledged him her word that she would
marry him in the fall of the year, she could
not resist the often recurring temptation to
exercise her attractions on other young men;
and, as John was naturally of a sudden and
violent, or rather jealous, temper, her
conduct tried him severely.  In vain he
expostulated, in vain he reasoned, in vain he
pleaded, Lina would only pout her
dissatisfaction at his lectures, and tell him if he did
not like her he was free to leave her; but
poor John felt to his sorrow that he was less
free than ever.  His mortification and
disappointment had a wretched effect on his
temper; he became morose and irritable,
even to his mother, and with Lina herself
high words became quite common—rather,
indeed, the rule than the exception when
they met.

Mrs. Harland, when she knew that her
son and Lina were really promised to each
other, made a duty of the necessity, and
tried to know her intended daughter-in-law
better; but Lina always showed her a repulsive,
unfriendly face, and, finally, the widow,
losing all patience, gave up the vain attempt,
and left her to her own devices.  To one
thing, however, she made up her mind, and
that was, that she would not continue to live
in the cottage with her son when he brought
home Lina as his wife, and when the time
for the wedding drew near she began to
make preparations for retiring elsewhere.
Lina made no secret of how glad this
arrangement made her, for she was afraid of Mrs.
Harland's serious integrity; but John regretted
his mother's resolution for many and
good reasons.

III.

It wanted but three weeks of the day fixed
for the marriage, when John, going one
evening rather later than usual to the
Fernie's cottage, found seated there in the
most friendly way, conversing with Lina, a
smart young clerk out for a holiday, whom
Lina told her lover she had known at her
aunt's in London.  The clerk was a good-
looking, conceited young sprig, who evidently
had a comfortable assurance of his own
personal attractions.  He called Lina, Linny,
and made a hundred allusions to past events
and amusements, while John sat by chafing
and galled at his impertinent familiarity
which Lina had not any notion of checking.
To do the young city clerk justice, he
had no idea whatever, that the ponderous
young mason, who was so slow of speech and
heavy of step, could be a wooer of Linny,
whom he thought of seriously for himself;
and he gave him several broad hints that his
room would be more acceptable than his
company.  But John stayed perseveringly
on, until Lina contrived him an errand to
the top of the village, and sent him away,
whether he would or no.

"Who is that fiery-faced clown, Linny?
He lords it over you finely!" lisped the
genteel clerk.

Lina coloured and stammered.  She was
ashamed to acknowledge John before this
young spark; who despised a far better man
than himself.