of character in Mammon's pattern-slave, and to the fulness of his due retribution in this world. I may add, that if anything could make the plan more heinous, if any shade than blackest can be blacker, this extra turpitude is seen in the true consideration, that the promise to Grace of her father's safety would be entirely futile,—as Jennings knew full well; he was merely nominal prosecutor; circumstantial evidence alone would be sufficient to condemn. Again, it really is nothing but bare justice to remark with reference to Sir John, that the deep-dyed villain reckoned quite without his host: for however truly the baronet had ofttimes been much less a selfdenying Scipio than a wanton Alcibiades, still the fine young fellow would have flung Simon piecemeal to his hounds, if ever he had breathed so atrocious a temptation: the maid was pledged, and Vincent knew it.

Now, it so happened that one evening at dusk, when Grace as usual was obliged to leave the prison, there was no Jonathan in waiting to accompany her all the dreary long way home this was strange, as his goodhearted master, privately informed of his noble attachment, never refused the man permission, but winked for the time at his frequent evening

absence. Nevertheless, on this occasion, as would happen now and then, Floyd could not escape from the dining-room; probably because -Mr. Jennings had secretly gone forth to escort the girl himself. Accordingly, instead of loved Jonathan, sidled up to her the loathsome Simon.

Let me not soil these pages by recording, in however guarded phrase, the grossness of this wretch's propositions: it was a long way to Hurstley, and the reptile never ceased tormenting her every step of it, till the village was in sight twice she ran, and he ran too, keeping up with her, and pouring into her ear a father's cruel fate and his own detestable alternative. She never once spoke to him, but kept on praying in her own pure mind for a just acquittal; not for one moment would she entertain the wicked thought of "doing evil that good might come ;" and so, with flushed cheek, tingling ears, the mien of an insulted empress, and the dauntless resolution of a heroine, she hastened on to Hurstley.

Look here! by great good fortune comes Jonathan Floyd to meet her.

"Save me, Jonathan, save me!" and she fainted in his arms.

Now, truth to say, though Sir John knew it, Simon did not, that Grace was Jonathan's beloved and betrothed; and the cause lay simply in this, that Jonathan had frankly told his master of it, when he found the dreadful turn things had taken with poor Roger; but as to Simon, no mortal in the neighbourhood ever communicated with him further than as urged by fell necessity. Of course, the lovers' meetings were as private as all such matters generally are; and Sarah's aid managed them admirably. Therefore, it now came to pass that Simon and Jonathan looked on each other in mutual astonishment, and needs must wait until Grace Acton could explain the “save me." Not but that Jennings seemed much as if he wished to run away; but he did not know how to manage it.

"Dear Jonathan," she whispered feebly, "save me from Simon Jennings."

In an instant, Jonathan's grasp was tightly involved in the Bailiff's stiff white neckcloth. And Grace, with much maidenly reserve, told her lover all she dared to utter of that base bartering for her father's life.

"Come straight along with me, you villain, straight to the master!" and the sturdy Jona

than, administering all the remainder of the way, (a quarter of a mile of avenue made part of it,) innumerable kickings and cuffings, hauled the half-choked, half-mummied bailiff into the servant's hall.

"Now then, straight before the master! John Page, be so good as to knock at the dining-room door, and ask master very respectfully if his honour will be good enough to suffer me to speak to him."

CHAPTER XLII.

THE DISMISSAL.

Ir was after dinner. Sir John and his friends had somehow been less jovial than usual; they were absolutely dull enough to be talking politics. So, when the boy of many buttons tapped at the door, and meekly brought in Jonathan's message, recounting also how he had got Mr. Jennings in tow for some inexplicable crime, the strangeness of the affair was a very welcome incident: both host and guests hailed it an adventure.

"By all means, let Jonathan come in.”

The trio were just outside; and when the blue and silver footman hauling in by his unrelinquished throat that scared bailiff, and followed by the blushing village beauty, stood within the room, Sir John and his half dozen friends greeted the tableau with united acclamations.

"I say, Pypp, that's a devilish fine crea