when henry little came to himself, he was seated on men's hands, and being carried through the keen refreshing air. mr. raby was striding on in front; the horse's hoofs were clamping along on the hard road behind; and he himself was surrounded by swordsmen in fantastic dresses.

he opened his eyes, and thought, of course, it was another vision. but no, the man, with whose blows his body was sore, and his right arm utterly numbed, walked close to him between two sword-dancers with raby-marks and little-marks upon him, viz., a face spotted with blood, and a black eye.

little sighed.

“eh, that's music to me,” said a friendly voice close to him. it was the king george of the lyrical drama, and, out of poetry, george the blacksmith.

“what, it is you, is it?” said little.

“ay, sir, and a joyful man to hear you speak again. the cowardly varmint! and to think they have all got clear but this one! are ye sore hurt, sir?”

“i'm in awful pain, but no bones broken.” then, in a whisper—“where are you taking me, george?”

“to raby hall,” was the whispered reply.

“not for all the world! if you are my friend, put me down, and let me slip away.”

“don't ask me, don't ask me,” said george, in great distress. “how could i look squire in the face? he did put you in my charge.”

“then i'm a prisoner!” said henry, sternly.

george hung his head, but made no reply.

henry also maintained a sullen silence after that.

the lights of raby came in sight.

that house contained two women, who awaited the result of the nocturnal expedition with terrible anxiety.

its fate, they both felt, had been determined before they even knew that the expedition had started.

they had nothing to do but to wait, and pray that henry had made his escape, or else had not been so mad as to attempt resistance.

in this view of things, the number and even the arms of his assailants were some comfort to them, as rendering resistance impossible.

as for mr. coventry, he was secretly delighted. his conscience was relieved. raby would now drive his rival out of the church and out of the country without the help of the trades, and his act of treachery and bad faith would be harmless. things had taken the happiest possible turn for him.

for all that, this courtier affected sympathy, and even some anxiety, to please miss carden, and divert all suspicion from himself. but the true ring was wanting to his words, and both the women felt them jar, and got away from him, and laid their heads together, in agitated whispers. and the result was, they put shawls over their heads, and went together out into the night.

they ran up the road, sighing and clasping their hands, but no longer speaking.

at the first turn they saw the whole body coming toward them.

“i'll soon know,” said jael, struggling with her agitation. “don't you be seen, miss; that might anger the squire; and, oh, he will be a wrathful man this night, if he caught him working in yonder church.”

grace then slipped back, and jael ran on. but no sooner did she come up with the party, than raby ordered her back, in a tone she dared not resist.

she ran back, and told grace they were carrying him in, hurt, and the squire's eyes were like hot coals.

grace slipped into the drawing-room and kept the door ajar.

soon afterward, raby, his men, and his prisoners, entered the hall, and grace heard raby say, “bring the prisoners into the dining-room.”

grace carden sat down, and leaned her head upon her hand, and her little foot beat the ground, all in a flutter.

but this ended in a spirited resolve. she rose, pale, but firm, and said, “come with me, jael;” and she walked straight into the dining-room. coventry strolled in after her.

the room was still brilliantly lighted. mr. raby was seated at his writing-table at the far end, and the prisoners, well guarded, stood ready to be examined.

“you can't come in here,” was mr. raby's first word to grace.

but she was prepared for this, and stood her ground. “excuse me, dear uncle, but i wish to see you administer justice; and, besides, i believe i can tell you something about one of the prisoners.”

“indeed! that alters the case. somebody give miss carden a chair.”

she sat down, and fixed her eyes upon henry little—eyes that said plainly, “i shall defend you, if necessary:” his pale cheek was flushing at sight of her.

mr. raby arranged his papers to make notes, and turned to cole. “the charge against you is, that you were seen this night by several persons engaged in an assault of a cruel and aggravated character. you, and two other men, attacked and overpowered an individual here present; and, while he was helpless, and on the ground, you were seen to raise a heavy cudgel (got the cudgel, george?)—”

“ay, your worship, here 'tis.”

“—and to strike him several times on the head and limbs, with all your force.”

“oh, cruel! cruel!”

“this won't do, miss carden; no observations, please. in consequence of which blows he soon after swooned away, and was for some time unconscious, and—”

“oh!”

“—for aught i know, may have received some permanent injury.”

“not he,” said cole; “he's all right. i'm the only man that is hurt; and i've got it hot; he hit me with his hammer, and knocked me down like a bullock. he's given me this black eye too.”

“in self-defense, apparently. which party attacked the other first?”

“why they attacked me, of course,” said henry. “four of them.”

“four! i saw but three.”

“oh, i settled one at starting, up near the forge. didn't you find him?” (this to george.)

“nay, we found none of the trash but this,” indicating cole, with a contemptuous jerk of the thumb.

“now, don't all speak at once,” said mr. raby. “my advice to you is to say nothing, or you'll probably make bad worse. but if you choose to say anything, i'm bound to hear it.”

“well, sir,” said cole, in a carrying voice, “what i say is this: what need we go to law over this? if you go against me for hitting him with a stick, after he had hit me with a blacksmith's hammer, i shall have to go against you for shooting me with a gun.”

“that is between you and me, sir. you will find a bystander may shoot a malefactor to save the life of a citizen. confine your defense, at present, to the point at issue. have you any excuse, as against this young man?” (to henry.)—“you look pale. you can sit down till your turn comes.”

“not in this house.”

“and why not in this house, pray? is your own house a better?”

no answer from henry. a look of amazement and alarm from grace. but she was afraid to utter a word, after the admonition she had received.

“well, sir,” said cole, “he was desecrating a church.”

“so he was, and i shall talk to him in his turn. but you desecrated it worse. he turned it into a blacksmith shop; you turned it into a shambles. i shall commit you. you will be taken to hillsborough to-morrow; to-night you will remain in my strong-room. fling him down a mattress and some blankets, and give him plenty to eat and drink; i wouldn't starve the devil on old christmas eve. there, take him away. stop; search his pockets before you leave him alone.”

cole was taken away, and henry's turn came.

just before this examination commenced, grace clasped her hands, and cast a deprecating look on henry, as much as to say, “be moderate.” and then her eyes roved to and fro, and the whole woman was in arms, and on the watch.

mr. raby began on him. “as for you, your offense is not so criminal in the eye of the law; but it is bad enough; you have broken into a church by unlawful means; you have turned it into a smithy, defiled the graves of the dead, and turned the tomb of a good knight into an oven, to the scandal of men and the dishonor of god. have you any excuse to offer?”

“plenty. i was plying an honest trade, in a country where freedom is the law. the hillsborough unions combined against me, and restrained my freedom, and threatened my life, ay, and attempted my life too, before to-day: and so the injustice and cruelty of men drove me to a sanctuary, me and my livelihood. blame the trades, blame the public laws, blame the useless police: but you can't blame me; a man must live.”

“why not set up your shop in the village? why wantonly desecrate a church?”

“the church was more secret, and more safe: and nobody worships in it. the wind and the weather are allowed to destroy it; you care so little for it you let it molder; then why howl if a fellow uses it and keeps it warm?”

at this sally there was a broad rustic laugh, which, however, mr. raby quelled with one glance of his eye.

“come, don't be impertinent,” said he to little.

“then don't you provoke a fellow,” cried henry, raising his voice.

grace clasped her hands in dismay.

jael dence said, in her gravest and most mellow voice, “you do forget the good squire saved your life this very night.”

this was like oil on all the waters.

“well, certainly i oughtn't to forget that,” said henry, apologetically. then he appealed piteously to jael, whose power over him struck every body directly, including grace carden. “look here, you mustn't think, because i don't keep howling, i'm all right. my arm is disabled: my back is almost broken: my thigh is cut. i'm in sharp pain, all this time: and that makes a fellow impatient of being lectured on the back of it all. why doesn't he let me go? i don't want to affront him now. all i want is to go and get nursed a bit somewhere.”

“now that is the first word of reason and common sense you have uttered, young man. it decides me not to detain you. all i shall do, under the circumstances, is to clear your rubbish out of that holy building, and watch it by night as well as day. your property, however, shall be collected, and delivered to you uninjured: so oblige me with your name and address.”

henry made no reply.

raby turned his eye full upon him.

“surely you do not object to tell me your name.”

“i do.”

“why?”

“excuse me.”

“what are you afraid of? do you doubt my word, when i tell you i shall not proceed against you?”

“no: it is not that at all. but this is no place for me to utter my father's name. we all have our secrets, sir. you have got yours. there's a picture, with its face to the wall. suppose i was to ask you to tell all the world whose face it is you insult and hide from the world?”

raby turned red with wrath and surprise, at this sudden thrust. “you insolent young scoundrel!” he cried. “what is that to you, and what connection can there be between that portrait and a man in your way of life?”

“there's a close connection,” said henry, trembling with anger, in his turn: “and the proof is that, when that picture is turned to the light, i'll tell you my name: and, till that picture is turned to the light, i'll not tell you my name; and if any body here knows my name, and tells it you, may that person's tongue be blistered at the root!”

“oh, how fearful!” cried grace, turning very pale. “but i'll put an end to it all. i've got the key, and i've his permission, and i'll—oh, mr. raby, there's something more in this than we know.” she darted to the picture, and unlocked the padlock, and, with jael's assistance, began to turn the picture. then mr. raby rose and seemed to bend his mind inward, but he neither forbade, nor encouraged, this impulsive act of grace carden's.

now there was not a man nor a woman in the room whose curiosity had not been more or less excited about this picture; so there was a general movement toward it, of all but mr. raby, who stood quite still, turning his eye inward, and evidently much moved, though passive.

there happened to be a strong light upon the picture, and the lovely olive face, the vivid features, and glorious black eyes and eyebrows, seemed to flash out of the canvas into life.

even the living faces, being blondes, paled before it, in the one particular of color. they seemed fair glittering moons, and this a glowing sun.

grace's first feelings were those of simple surprise and admiration. but, as she gazed, henry's words returned to her, and all manner of ideas struck her pell-mell. “oh, beautiful! beautiful!” she cried. then, turning to henry, “you are right; it was not a face to hide from the world—oh! the likeness! just look at him, and then at her! can i be mistaken?”

this appeal was made to the company, and roused curiosity to a high pitch; every eye began to compare the dark-skinned beauty on the wall with the swarthy young man, who now stood there, and submitted in haughty silence to the comparison.

the words caught mr. raby's attention. he made a start, and elbowing them all out of his way, strode up to the picture.

“what do you say, miss carden? what likeness can there be between my sister and a smith?” and he turned and frowned haughtily on henry little.

henry returned his look of defiance directly.

but that very exchange of defiance brought out another likeness, which grace's quick eye seized directly.

“why, he is still liker you,” she cried. “look, good people! look at all three. look at their great black eyes, and their brown hair. look at their dark skins, and their haughty noses. oh, you needn't blow your nostrils out at me, gentlemen; i am not a bit afraid of either of you.—and then look at this lovely creature. she is a raby too, only softened down by her sweet womanliness. look at them all three, if they are not one flesh and blood, i have no eyes.”

“oh yes, miss; and this lady is his mother. for i have seen her; and she is a sweet lady; and she told me i had a cairnhope face, and kissed me for it.”

upon this from jael, the general conviction rose into a hum that buzzed round the room.

mr. raby was struck with amazement. at last he turned slowly upon henry, and said, with stiff politeness, “is your name little, sir?”

“little is my name, and i'm proud of it.”

“your name may be little, but your face is raby. all the better for you, sir.”

he then turned his back to the young man, and walked right in front of the picture, and looked at it steadily and sadly.

it was a simple and natural action, yet somehow done in so imposing a way, that the bystanders held their breath, to see what would follow.

he gazed long and steadily on the picture, and his features worked visibly.

“ay!” he said. “nature makes no such faces nowadays. poor unfortunate girl!” and his voice faltered a moment.

he then began to utter, in a low grave voice, some things that took every body by surprise, by the manner as well as the matter; for, with his never once taking his eyes off the picture, and speaking in a voice softened by the sudden presence of that womanly beauty, the companion of his youth, it was just like a man speaking softly in a dream.

“thomas, this picture will remain as it is while i live.”

“yes, sir.”

“i find i can bear the sight of you. as we get older we get tougher. you look as if you didn't want me to quarrel with your son? well, i will not: there has been quarreling enough. any of the loyal dences here?” but he never even turned his head from the picture to look for them.

“only me, sir; jael dence, at your service. father's not very well.”

“nathan, or jael, it is all one, so that it is dence. you'll take that young gentleman home with you, and send him to bed. he'll want nursing: for he got some ugly blows, and took them like a gentleman. the young gentleman has a fancy for forging things—the lord knows what. he shall not forge things in a church, and defile the tombs of his own forefathers; but” (with a groan) “he can forge in your yard. all the snobs in hillsborough sha'n't hinder him, if that is his cursed hobby. gentlemen are not to be dictated to by snobs. arm three men every night with guns; load the guns with ball, not small shot, as i did; and if those ruffians molest him again, kill them, and then come to me and complain of them. but, mind you kill them first—complain afterward. and now take half-a-dozen of these men with you, to carry him to the farm, if he needs it. there, edith!”

and still he never moved his eyes from the picture, and the words seemed to drop out of him.

henry stood bewildered, and, ere he could say anything that might revive the dormant irritation of mr. raby against him, female tact interposed. grace clasped her hands to him, with tears in her eyes; and as for jael dence, she assumed the authority with which she had been invested and hurried him bodily away; and the sword-dancers all gathered round him, and they carried him in triumphant procession, with the fiddler playing, and george whistling, the favorite tune of “raby come home again,” while every sturdy foot beat the hard and ringing road in admirable keeping with that spirit-stirring march.

when he was gone, grace crept up to mr. raby, who still stood before the picture, and eyed it and thought of his youth. she took his arm wondrous softly with her two hands, rested her sweet head against his shoulder, and gazed at it along with him.

when she had nestled to him some time in this delicate attitude, she turned her eyes up to him, and murmured, “how good, how noble you are: and how i love you.” then, all in a moment, she curled round his neck, and kissed him with a tender violence, that took him quite by surprise.

as for mr. coventry, he had been reduced to a nullity, and escaped attention all this time: he sat in gloomy silence, and watched with chilled and foreboding heart the strange turn events had taken, and were taking; events which he, and no other man, had set rolling.