Bristol Bells: A Story of the Eighteenth Century

e might be reprimanded for delay, when her heart beat fast as she

s gentle and even deferential as

er. I have come, by your le

ir, when I last saw you.

rnation of spring's loveliness my courage forsook me. In our future interviews it grew fainter and ever fainter. I love you, madam, and if you will promise to be my wife I swear I will never

sir, do not swear what is impossible to perform. Not even t

more favoured, I

our and flashing eyes, 'there is a limit to

of this matter, and as I ride back to-day I will give them warning at Bishop's Farm that I extend the time for claiming my

ue to his word. Then she thought of what the joy and relief at the farm would be when a long delay was granted-much might happen i

she trust

aring far above good Jack Henderson, or any of her old admirers in her native village. After a moment's pause, while she nervously

delay of a year,

patient Job,' he replied, with a little

rtide next

ve cast a spell over me. I will wait till the

he Squire took it, bowed over it, ra

your grandfather sh

, I do not promise. I only crav

steps along the pavement of the square, as the appre

t the same moment, but C

him at the office-nothing but indignities in the house where he lived as a servant. What was it to him that Bryda's sweet face was clouded by

nctuality I cannot tolerate. Remember, miss,

sed, and Chattert

at on his low stool, with his long legs bent up under the watchmaker's counter, pulling to pieces a larg

ver him, and whis

nother suitor. He was with her in the square to-

scape of falling from the counter, and the man who had

end. You'll never be fit for the trade. You might as well put

this taunt, and bent his

laughed a

to look out or your fair one

n he wa

r a heavy rain was falling, and there was no chance of Bryda coming out for a Sunday walk. But he we

opened it, a

ee Miss

wink, 'the missis takes a nap after dinner, and if she is gone off Miss Palmer m

k said wrathfully, 'you

e for you. You may stand there till the "crack

ortably asleep, and Bryda opened the door softly, and saw Jack standing near it,

he door behind

to-day, Jack, it

n't I speak to y

may come into his study. Is anything wrong, Ja

? I know it was he you were talking to t'other day. Don't hav

s, Jack,' Bryda said, assuming a jestin

h, draw t

he fire

Bryda. It is no

ad a letter from my dear Bet, which the carrier brou

out Betty's letter. Betty had not the gift of either penmans

,' Bryda exclaimed, holdi

u. I don't wa

or you,' Bryda exclaime

h the open letter, her face flushed with the most

is not to trouble about the money for another few months. The Squire says he won't press it, and so we can go on as we are till next Easter. Dear Bryda, I think the Squire was tender

en cross-grained, he knew, but nevertheless he would gladly have got

kisses, and a few words written below to say grandfather had ea

to me if the Squire gets the money at Easter

e winter to look about them.

trust that man. He has got som

asiness as to what might be the relations between Bryda and the Squire, and yet he dared not come to the point and ask the plain question. Bryda wo

ome reason, I

added, 'I must go back to the parlour now. Mrs Lambert will awake and be angry if I am not at hand. Good-bye, Jack

ton about him. 'And yet I should not like to act spy to her,' he sighed, as he went out into the relentless

d hatred, of vain aspirations and blighted hopes, are told o

and even those with whom we live in daily intercours

nce, and the world of the past peopled by his own fervid imagination, who

he should interpret her acquiescence in the delay as a promise-Chatterton was brooding over his wrongs, and in August was in a frenzy of indignation when he received his cherished man

great man who had once raised his hopes, and by his moody and fitful temper turning even his friends against him, or at any rate tending to make them indifferent to his woe

cited the popular feeling, and roused the sympathy of many for those who resisted the enforcement of the Stamp Act, and the indignation of othe

s supper-table or Mr Catcott's tavern. This good, simple-hearted man was faithful in his allegiance to the boy, and never

though a watery subject,' and Mr Catcott sipped the large tankard before him, and setting it down with a loud thud on the tavern table, he laughed at his own wit. 'And then there's Barrett, his history is learned and all the rest of it, but I'd sooner read one of your own poems, my lad, let alone hear you recite from Rowley's 'Tragedy of ?lla,' than I would read twenty pages of history. It suits my tastes,