MY narrative may move on again from the point at which it pausedin the first chapter.

Mary and I (as you may remember) had left the bailiff alone atthe decoy, and had set forth on our way together to Dermody'scottage.

As we approached the garden gate, I saw a servant from the housewaiting there. He carried a message from my mother--a message forme.

"My mistress wishes you to go home, Master George, as soon as youcan. A letter has come by the coach. My master means to take apost-chaise from London, and sends word that we may expect him inthe course of the day."

Mary's attentive face saddened when she heard those words.

"Must you really go away, George," she whispered, "before you seewhat I have got waiting for you at home?"

I remembered Mary's promised "surprise," the secret of which wasonly to be revealed to me when we got to the cottage. How could Idisappoint her? My poor little lady-love looked ready to cry atthe bare prospect of it.

I dismissed the servant with a message of the temporizing sort.My love to my mother--and I would be back at the house in half anhour.

We entered the cottage.

Dame Dermody was sitting in the light of the window, as usual,with one of the mystic books of Emanuel Swedenborg open on herlap. She solemnly lifted her hand on our appearance, signing tous to occupy our customary corner without speaking to her. It wasan act of domestic high treason to interrupt the Sibyl at herbooks. We crept quietly into our places. Mary waited until shesaw her grandmother's gray head bend down, and her grandmother'sbushy eyebrows contract attentively, over her reading. Then, andthen only, the discreet child rose on tiptoe, disappearednoiselessly in the direction of her bedchamber, and came back tome carrying something carefully wrapped up in her best cambrichandkerchief.

"Is that the surprise?" I whispered.

Mary whispered back: "Guess what it is?"

"Something for me?"

"Yes. Go on guessing. What is it?"

I guessed three times, and each guess was wrong. Mary decided onhelping me by a hint.

"Say your letters," she suggested; "and go on till I stop you."

I began: "A, B, C, D, E, F--" There she stopped me.

"It's the name of a Thing," she said; "and it begins with F."

I guessed, "Fern," "Feather," "Fife." And here my resourcesfailed me.

Mary sighed, and shook her head. "You don't take pains," shesaid. "You are three whole years older than I am. After all thetrouble I have taken to please you, you may be too big to carefor my present when you see it. Guess again."

"I can't guess."

"You must!"

"I give it up."

Mary refused to let me give it up. She helped me by another hint.

"What did you once say you wished you had in your boat?" sheasked.

"Was i t long ago?" I inquired, at a loss for an answer.

"Long, long ago! Before the winter. When the autumn leaves werefalling, and you took me out one evening for a sail. Ah, George,_ you_ have forgotten!"

Too true, of me and of my brethren, old and young alike! It isalways _his_ love that forgets, and _her_ love that remembers. Wewere only two children, and we were types of the man and thewoman already.

Mary lost patience with me. Forgetting the terrible presence ofher grandmother, she jumped up, and snatched the concealed objectout of her handkerchief.

"There! " she cried, briskly, "_now_ do you know what it is?"

I remembered at last. The thing I had wished for in my boat, allthose months ago, was a new flag. And here was the flag, made forme in secret by Mary's own hand! The ground was green silk, witha dove embroidered on it in white, carrying in its beak thetypical olive-branch, wrought in gold thread. The work was thetremulous, uncertain work of a child's fingers. But howfaithfully my little darling had remembered my wish! howpatiently she had plied the needle over the traced lines of thepattern! how industriously she had labored through the drearywinter days! and all for my sake! What words could tell my pride,my gratitude, my happiness?

I too forgot the presence of the Sibyl bending over her book. Itook the little workwoman in my arms, and kissed her till I wasfairly out of breath and could kiss no longer.

"Mary!" I burst out, in the first heat of my enthusiasm, "myfather is coming home to-day. I will speak to him to-night. And Iwill marry you to-morrow!"

"Boy!" said the awful voice at the other end of the room. "Comehere."

Dame Dermody's mystic book was closed; Dame Dermody's weird blackeyes were watching us in our corner. I approached her; and Maryfollowed me timidly, by a footstep at a time.

The Sibyl took me by the hand, with a caressing gentleness whichwas new in my experience of her.

"Do you prize that toy?" she inquired, looking at the flag. "Hideit!" she cried, before I could answer. "Hide it--or it may betaken from you!"

"Why should I hide it?" I asked. "I want to fly it at the mast ofmy boat."

"You will never fly it at the mast of your boat!" With thatanswer she took the flag from me and thrust it impatiently intothe breast-pocket of my jacket.

"Don't crumple it, grandmother!" said Mary, piteously.

I repeated my question:

"Why shall I never fly it at the mast of my boat?"

Dame Dermody laid her hand on the closed volume of Swedenborglying in her lap.

"Three times I have opened this book since the morning," shesaid. "Three times the words of the prophet warn me that there istrouble coming. Children, it is trouble that is coming to You. Ilook there," she went on, pointing to the place where a ray ofsunlight poured slanting into the room, "and I see my husband inthe heavenly light. He bows his head in grief, and he points hisunerring hand at You. George and Mary, you are consecrated toeach other! Be always worthy of your consecration; be alwaysworthy of yourselves." She paused. Her voice faltered. She lookedat us with softening eyes, as those look who know sadly thatthere is a parting at hand. "Kneel!" she said, in low tones ofawe and grief. "It may be the last time I bless you--it may bethe last time I pray over you, in this house. Kneel!"

We knelt close together at her feet. I could feel Mary's heartthrobbing, as she pressed nearer and nearer to my side. I couldfeel my own heart quickening its beat, with a fear that was amystery to me.

"God bless and keep George and Mary, here and hereafter! Godprosper, in future days, the union which God's wisdom has willed!Amen. So be it. Amen."

As the last words fell from her lips the cottage door was thrustopen. My father--followed by the bailiff--entered the room.

Dame Dermody got slowly on her feet, and looked at him with astern scrutiny.

"It has come," she said to herself. "It looks with the eyes--itwill speak with the voice--of that man."

My father broke the silence that followed, addressing himself tothe bailiff.

"You see, Dermody," he said, "here is my son in yourcottage--when he ought to be in my house." He turned, and lookedat me as I stood with my arm round little Mary, patiently waitingfor my opportunity to speak. "George," he said, with the hardsmile which was peculiar to him, when he was angry and was tryingto hide it, "you are making a fool of yourself there. Leave thatchild, and come to me."

Now, or never, was my time to declare myself. Judging byappearances, I was still a boy. Judging by my own sensations, Ihad developed into a man at a moment's notice.

"Papa," I said, "I am glad to see you home again. This is MaryDermody. I am in love with her, and she is in love with me. Iwish to marry her as soon as it is convenient to my mother andyou."

My father burst out laughing. Before I could speak again, hishumor changed. He had observed that Dermody, too, presumed to beamused. He seemed to become mad with anger, all in a moment.

"I have been told of this infernal tomfoolery," he said, "but Ididn't believe it till now. Who has turned the boy's weak head?Who has encouraged him to stand there hugging that girl? If it'syou, Dermody, it shall be the worst day's work you ever did inyour life." He turned to me again, before the bailiff coulddefend himself. "Do you hear what I say? I tell you to leaveDermody's girl, and come home with me."

"Yes, papa," I answered. "But I must go back to Mary, if youplease, after I have been with you."

Angry as he was, my father was positively staggered by myaudacity.

"You young idiot, your insolence exceeds belief!" he burst out."I tell you this: you will never darken these doors again! Youhave been taught to disobey me here. You have had things put intoyour head, here, which no boy of your age ought to know--I'll saymore, which no decent people would have let you know."

"I beg your pardon, sir," Dermody interposed, very respectfullyand very firmly at the same time. "There are many things which amaster in a hot temper is privileged to say to the man who serveshim. But you have gone beyond your privilege. You have shamed me,sir, in the presence of my mother, in the hearing of my child--"

My father checked him there.

"You may spare the rest of it," he said. "We are master andservant no longer. When my son came hanging about your cottage,and playing at sweethearts with your girl there, your duty was toclose the door on him. You have failed in your duty. I trust youno longer. Take a month's notice, Dermody. You leave my service."

The bailiff steadily met my father on his ground. He was nolonger the easy, sweet-tempered, modest man who was the man of myremembrance.

"I beg to decline taking your month's notice, sir," he answered."You shall have no opportunity of repeating what you have justsaid to me. I will send in my accounts to-night. And I will leaveyour service to-morrow."

"We agree for once," retorted my father. "The sooner you go, thebetter."

He stepped across the room and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Listen to me," he said, making a last effort to control himself."I don't want to quarrel with you before a discarded servant.There must be an end to this nonsense. Leave these people to packup and go, and come back to the house with me."

His heavy hand, pressing on my shoulder, seemed to press thespirit of resistance out of me. I so far gave way as to try tomelt him by entreaties.

"Oh, papa! papa!" I cried. "Don't part me from Mary! See howpretty and good she is! She has made me a flag for my boat. Letme come here and see her sometimes. I can't live without her"

I could say no more. My poor little Mary burst out crying. Hertears and my entreaties were alike wasted on my father.

"Take your choice," he said, "between coming away of your ownaccord, or obliging me to take you away by force. I mean to partyou and Dermody's girl."

"Neither you nor any man can part them," interposed a voice,speaking behind us. "Rid your mind of that notion, master, beforeit is too late."

My father looked round quickly, and discovere d Dame Dermodyfacing him in the full light of the window. She had stepped back,at the outset of the dispute, into the corner behind thefireplace. There she had remained, biding her time to speak,until my father's last threat brought her out of her place ofretirement.

They looked at each other for a moment. My father seemed to thinkit beneath his dignity to answer her. He went on with what he hadto say to me.

"I shall count three slowly," he resumed. "Before I get to thelast number, make up your mind to do what I tell you, or submitto the disgrace of being taken away by force."

"Take him where you may," said Dame Dermody, "he will still be onhis way to his marriage with my grandchild."

"And where shall I be, if you please?" asked my father, stunginto speaking to her this time.

The answer followed instantly in these startling words:

"_You_ will be on your way to your ruin and your death."

My father turned his back on the prophetess with a smile ofcontempt.

"One!" he said, beginning to count.

I set my teeth, and clasped both arms round Mary as he spoke. Ihad inherited some of his temper, and he was now to know it.

"Two!" proceeded my father, after waiting a little.

Mary put her trembling lips to my ear, and whispered: "Let me go,George! I can't bear to see it. Oh, look how he frowns! I knowhe'll hurt you."

My father lifted his forefinger as a preliminary warning beforehe counted Three.

"Stop!" cried Dame Dermody.

My father looked round at her again with sardonic astonishment.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am--have you anything particular to say tome?" he asked.

"Man!" returned the Sibyl, "you speak lightly. Have I spokenlightly to You? I warn you to bow your wicked will before a Willthat is mightier than yours. The spirits of these children arekindred spirits. For time and for eternity they are united one tothe other. Put land and sea between them--they will still betogether; they will communicate in visions, they will be revealedto each other in dreams. Bind them by worldly ties; wed your son,in the time to come, to another woman, and my grand-daughter toanother man. In vain! I tell you, in vain! You may doom them tomisery, you may drive them to sin--the day of their union onearth is still a day predestined in heaven. It will come! it willcome! Submit, while the time for submission is yours. You are adoomed man. I see the shadow of disaster, I see the seal ofdeath, on your face. Go; and leave these consecrated ones to walkthe dark ways of the world together, in the strength of theirinnocence, in the light of their love. Go--and God forgive you!"In spite of himself, my father was struck by the irresistiblestrength of conviction which inspired those words. The bailiff'smother had impressed him as a tragic actress might have impressedhim on the stage. She had checked the mocking answer on his lips,but she had not shaken his iron will. His face was as hard asever when he turned my way once more.

"The last chance, George, " he said, and counted the last number:"Three!"

I neither moved nor answered him.

"You _will_ have it?" he said, as he fastened his hold on my arm.

I fastened _my_ hold on Mary; I whispered to her, "I won't leaveyou!" She seemed not to hear me. She trembled from head to footin my arms. A faint cry of terror fluttered from her lips.Dermody instantly stepped forward. Before my father could wrenchme away from her, he had said in my ear, "You can give her to_me_, Master George," and had released his child from my embrace.She stretched her little frail hands out yearningly to me, as shelay in Dermody's arms. "Good-by, dear," she said, faintly. I sawher head sink on her father's bosom as I was dragged to the door.In my helpless rage and misery, I struggled against the cruelhands that had got me with all the strength I had left. I criedout to her, "I love you, Mary! I will come back to you, Mary! Iwill never marry any one but you!" Step by step, I was forcedfurther and further away. The last I saw of her, my darling'shead was still resting on Dermody's breast. Her grandmother stoodnear, and shook her withered hands at my father, and shrieked herterrible prophecy, in the hysteric frenzy that possessed her whenshe saw the separation accomplished. "Go!--you go to your ruin!you go to your death!" While her voice still rang in my ears, thecottage door was opened and closed again. It was all over. Themodest world of my boyish love and my boyish joy disappeared likethe vision of a dream. The empty outer wilderness, which was myfather's world, opened before me void of love and void of joy.God forgive me--how I hated him at that moment!