The Martyrdom of Madeline

dscape was flat and level, with little or no vegetation; for over the dark low levels the sea had crawled, and would crawl again. Here and there hovered a seagull, tempted in from

a sort of pendant to the upper village, in the shape of a row of tiny red-tiled cottages

boat was crossing leisurely, with a freight of

e hand. Her eyes were now on the shining river and the drifting f

sad. The common cotton frock and coarse country shoes and stockings became her well, though her limbs were somewhat long and shapeless as yet. And if the girl was not a little fairylike, Unc

up and down the crowded river. But on the present occasion, it being a holiday, his attire was radiant-a high chimney-pot hat, very broad at the brim, and large enough to descend to his ears, a blue pilot coat, a white waistcoat, and a coloured cotton shirt, bl

tural. Yet his shortcomings were by no means upon the surface, and it would have taken a very wise man to understand them at a glance. He was harmless, industrious, and in some respects particularly shrewd. He knew how many pence

and easily tired; and there on the barge, under his brother's eye, he laboured cheerfully, save when some one was cruel enough to take advantage of his weakness or to deride his

escape from the Rector, and partly because Madeline had promised h

s; and he had been languishing with curiosity for days, puzzling his head, as many a child has done, to know what was inside the mo

in a cloud. Neither spoke; Madeline continued to impress an occasional kiss on the hand which she still held fondly in hers-and to each of these exhibitio

on your Sunday hat. There be

rm, and tied it carefully on her head. Then regaining possession of her uncle's hand, she walked decorou

rtree stood six feet in his shoes; he was very thin, and he stooped slightly at the shoulders. His hair wa

enclosed by green wooden railings and a green wooden gate. Upon one of the gates now leaned Uncle Mark, clad, too, in his S

e, can't you be home at meal times? Mother's in a powerful rage. Brother Brown

before he could utter a word in reply, another voice,

ood Friday, as if we didn't get enough of them every day i' the year. However, coming the

e apron tied round her waist. She was short and stout, with a brown good-humoured face and glossy black hair. She wore a cap the long ends of which were thrown over her shoulde

,' the good-humoured grin again took possession of Uncle Luke's face. Passing through the little gate he

ther-beaten face, 'indeed, Uncle Mark, 'twas all on account o' me that h

e dreaded secret of the dance, but Uncle Mark, who had his own reasons fo

aking her small hot hand in his big

ting the Prodigal Son, the other Susannah and the Elders. But in the centre of the mantelpiece stood the crowning glory of the apartment-a small 'weather-cottage' made of wood, formed in the shape of a roofed shed, and containing two figures, one of 'Darby' and another of 'Joan,' standing on either side of a piece of wood, suspended in the centre by a quicksilver pole. When the weather was fine, Joan swung out, with her basket on her arm, as if going to market, and left Darby under cover; when it was wet, Joan retreated, and Darby emerged to brave the elements