contending and irritating feelings that had been called up during the late scene.

For some time she seemed scarcely conscious where she was, or of her own purpose, but remained fixed and motionless on the very spot where Morgan had burst from her. At length a sudden recollection appeared to rush upon her mind, and she exclaimed, "Yes, I may yet save him; I will instantly seek Edward Wilford; I will tell him all; he may this night fly from Canterbury; he may escape the toils this wretch has spread for his destruction: -some spirit of a higher world than this has surely suggested the thought-I will obey the suggestion. God calls me to his deliverance,-I will dare all to do it."

Without pausing another moment for farther delibera tion, Arabella instantly quitted the summer-house, passed the Park with surprising rapidity, gained the village, and rushed into the cottage of old Gammer Plaise. The surprise that it produced must be told in the next chapter.

CHAPTER III.

As Arabella burst into the cottage, in a manner so different to that with which she had hitherto visited the dwellings of the poor, an old man, who stood talking to Blind Tommy in a tone of condolence, for the lad was weeping bitterly, exclaimed, "The Lord help us! why, what mad quean have we here?"

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"I am mad, indeed!" said Arabella; and then, as if recollecting herself, she added with more composure, “I have been greatly alarmed in the Park."

"The Lord bless you! is it you?" cried the old man : "Good lack, my Lady Arabella, I didn't know you, when you came in, in such a way as almost to knock me down, as I stood near the door ;" and he doffed his cap respectfully as he spoke, and showed a head covered with a few thin locks of silvery whiteness.

"I am sorry," said Arabella, "that I should have alarmed you, but I have been frightened in my way hither -I"

"I suppose, then, you met the men in charge of the prisoner," continued the white-headed villager.

"What men ?—what prisoner?-have they taken him?" inquired Arabella eagerly, and with almost breathless anxiety.

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They have taken poor old granny," said Tommy. "Thank Heaven!" exclaimed Arabella, greatly relieved from the apprehension which she had instantly conceived that it must be Edward Wilford who was mentioned as a prisoner.

"That is not kind, to thank Heaven that granny is taken away; and for you, too, my Lady, to say so, when poor granny used to be so fond of you," said Tommy, in a peevish tone, as he sobbed his reproaches to Arabella.

"You mistake me, poor child," she replied; "I am not so wicked to thank Heaven that your grandmother should be in trouble; I came to speak with her."

"But you 'll never speak with her here again, Lady, I fear," said the boy; "those wicked men have taken her away for a heretic and a witch, and I am sure I can't tell what they mean; for granny used to read the Bible, and say her prayers, and cure the sick folks, and the cows too, and that's all the harm that ever she did in her life; as Gaffer Turf there knows well enough, if he will speak the truth, like an honest man."

Arabella wished to get rid of the old man, but she did not know how to do it to avoid exciting suspicion.

"Ay, ay," said old Turf, the Sexton of Wellminster ; "I believe Gammer Plaise was a good woman, for all that's come and gone yet; thof some folks would have it that she had an evil eye; thof, for my part, I always said, says 1, she has no more an evil eye than her betters. But she is old, and her eye, like every body else's, will blink with old age, if they live to make old bones; and the bell don't toll for them, as it often does for many a younger one; for a fresh cheek and a bright eye as often come to the ground, as those that are withered by age,-but these are miserable times."

"They are miserable, indeed," said Arabella: "and what, my poor boy, will become of you? why are you left behind ?"

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They would not let me go with granny," answered Tommy," though I wanted to go to comfort her; and they said, though I was blind, and couldn't see the devil when granny raised him, yet I might be one of his imps, and help her to bring him up, for all that; and so I was left behind.

"And what will you do, my poor child, repeated Ara bella."

"What will I do ?" cried Tommy; "why, Lady, I will do as the poor birds did, when the wicked boys, in the village wrung the old one's neck,-I will droop and die; for I am blind, and I have not a friend on earth."

"But you have a friend in Heaven, my dear child,” said Arabella," and He has promised never to desert the orphan and I hope you have a friend on earth too; I will be such to you.'

:

"No, no," said Tommy, "don't mind me; but if you can, do be granny's friend, for I am afraid the wicked men will burn her."

"Burn her!" cried old Gaffer Turf; "it would be a shameful thing if they did but to see now these times, they ruin every honest man; they burn so many, it is a great hurt to trade. By and by, I suppose, they will be for burning every body, and so leave nobody to be buried at all. I might as well use my spade to dig in a marl-pit, for what it is good for in my hands; we have scarce a corpse comes to ground, they carry so many to the stake. And even when they are buried they will not let folks rest in their graves, but dig them up and burn them too, as they did Peter Martyr's wife at Oxford.* A wood-cutter and a fagot-binder is a craft worth ten of a sexton's calling, now-a-days, these are miserable times."

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They are indeed, and fraught with wretchedness," said Arabella. "I remember you now, friend,-you are Gaffer Turf, the old sexton. I-I think you allowed Master Edward Wilford to have the key of the church this morning; did you not?"

* At Oxford, the bones of Peter Martyr's wife were dug up by order of the Legate Cardinal Pole, and buried in a dunghill.

The old man put his finger to his nose, as he said in a low voice, "Not a word of that; I love Master Edward and all his family well enough; but, you know," and he winked his eye significantly, "I didn't let him have the key neither, thof I let Tommy have it, because, thof he is blind, he loves to be running his fingers over the organ, when he can get any-body to blow the bellows; so, you see, all was right,-I only lent the key to Tommy."

"But you knew who I wanted it for, I am sure, Gaffer," said Tommy; "for Master Edward didn't give you a silver sixpence for letting me play the organ this morning."

"Hold your tongue, you young rogue," cried old Turf; "I let you have the key, and so I told the gentleman who was spying here-abouts to-day. I told him it was for you to go into the church to play to the Lady Arabella."

To me?" exclaimed Arabella. "Why did you mention me?"

I

"Because the gentleman rated me for letting strangers have the key of Friar John's new church. And he said he was sure it was for Master Wilford, for that he saw him go down the green lane and steal into the church, and so he came to me to ask about it, he was sure it was Master Wilford. That's what you can't be sure of,' says to him, 'for it was my Lady Arabella that went just now into the church.' 'Did she so?' says he, and is the door open now?' 'I believe it is, says I, for, now I think of it, the lock is broke off the little door behind the rood-loft; and so, if folks will be getting in to look at the fine new rood that has been set up, I can't help it.' And so the gentleman said no more, but off he goes too, and I do think he got into the church at the door behind the screen, under the rood-loft, for afterwards I saw him standing near it on the outside by the church. And so I went up to him, and I said I hoped there was no harm done to nobody, and he said no, but told me to get the lock of the little door mended, and not to let people be going into the church again, for the Friar would not like it."

"And what gentleman was it who made these inquiries?" said Arabella.

"Nay, I don't know," answered old Turf; "only it was a gentleman that rides by here sometimes with the Friar and another the like, to Wellminster Hall."

"There, my friend," said Arabella to the aged sexton, "there is something for you, and now leave me to talk to this poor boy; I will see that he is taken care of. You had better not remain here after what has so lately chanced to his poor grandmother."

"Why, that's true, Lady," said old Turf; "and I thank you for your largess. And if there's any thing I can do for you, Mistress Arabella, in my way, I'll do it with all my heart, to oblige you.".

"I thank you, friend," replied Arabella; "but your business lies with the dead, and I am living, so I shall not trouble you."

"No trouble at all, my Lady, I do assure you," said old Turf, as he made a respectful bow, and once more uncovered his white locks,-"no trouble at all; it's quite a pleasure to bury one's friends, be they small or great; and so I give you a good evening;" and away went Gaffer Turf.