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and ti,
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erable; that he dreaded the cxpopAire of hi-i folly to his uncle,
and yet he longed to have everything known, as the only way
to get strength for himself and protection against Gardener.
He said he hated Gardener and was afraid of him, and that
he should not be surprised at any vengeance that James Gardener
might take upon him.
Then also Peter had sorrowful suspicions as to Fred drink-
ing more than was good for him; and, after the experience of
one evening at Mr. Brewnrd's house, he had steadily refused to
go again, but had made Drake free at any time of his own
i, and of his glass bower on the house-top.
So it happened that from morning till night Peter had no
time to himself. And when he went to rest he lay awake
haunted by thoughts of Drake, and unhappy at speeches that
young man had made. All these undisciplined speeches tended
towards one idea that Fred Drake hated James Gardener.
The poor young man reckoned up the money he had actually
spent; then the money that his undo might consider to be the
honest interest on the borrowed money ; then a further sum
which probably would be paid ns a bonus to James Gardener
thoroughly steady men he hr.d lost that chance of improving
his fortune; and he had greatly diminished the sum of money
they had agreed to pay him. Past folly, present pain, and
future need, were very unpleasant subjects of meditation to
this misguided young man, who acknowledged his wilfulness
only with an angry repentance and a vindictive feeling towards
James Gardener, which it greatly troubled Peter Sands
to see
However, there' was nothing to be done but .,0 bear it; and
bear it Peter did as well as he was able. But his life had
grown heavy with this trouble weighing on it, and he looked
out for something to console himself with.
He visited the poor and needy, comforted the afflicted, and
taught the ignorant. Still, wherever he went the thought of
Drake haunted him. It was a sad thing to tliiuk of
Drake's bitter spirit and sore heart; of his angry regret, which
was no true repentance, but a vexation of spirit which led to
no good result, but often to the terrible indulgence of drink-
ing.
This foolish youth hated the past, which he could never re-
call, and deadened the regrets of the present moment by taking
wine than was good for him. Most heartily did Peter
UK; return of Mr. Breward. In the meanl iuic he had to
do the best hw i
!:'red; and it was a .irk.
(jui'iillv. 11'! had I-
pious i
>1 tho work that
:1 S. a!! ^> ''.
were pretty well restored; and IVliT Sa,
freely w'.ien he i
seven pounds
t: "' ninety-
were safely lodged and placed to
credit in the Treddington
Mr. Breward's
bank.
CHAPTER VI.
Tho ten days that Peter had to live through during Mr.
Breward's absence from home were ten days of heart-ache and
brain-puzzle.
Drake was so queer that he did not know what to make of
him. Mr. Bonnet had been sit displeased his inattention to his
office duties, and had threatened to complain of him to his
uncle as soon as he returned. Of course Drake brought all his
griefs to Peter. He said lie was hi; hail moiv to be thankful for than
t:e prayed for a heart of "
love. Lord, teach.
mo to love Thee
broken-down, poor, and mis-
'"
, during this weary ten days, after having long listened
to Fred Drake's bitter, discontented meanings, Peter took his
hut and stick and started on a walk by himself, longing for tho
mi nt of pure air, eager for exercise, and wanting to be
alone with tho smiling earth full of tho promise of harvest, and
tho quiet unclouded sky. This was on tho afternoon of a sweet,
calm day, and he walked with vigor like one rejoicing to be at
peace and alone. He returned from this country ramble by a
way which brought him into the middle of Trcddington, and
he found himself close to Mr. Bloomfield's house, occupied by
Mrs. Mills as housekeeper. Peter knocked at the door, and
his old friend appeared. She greeted him very kindly.
" I was just wanting something to do me good," she said,
"and here you are ! I could not have been sent anything
better."
She took him to her own sitting-room, where everything was
in the finest order, and where every moment she expected the
arrival of Mr. Bloomfield's daughter Helen. She came before
their first greetings and mutual inquiries were over, and she
and Peter were very glad to meet. He saw Helen but seldom,
for she was as a rule engaged all day, nnd Peter spent his evenings
either at Mr. Breward's or at home.
and they found
They talked of old times and present times ;
that quite enough, without speculations as to the future.
They talked of Mrs. Penwarue and her trusted maid-servant,
Mrs. Brading. They spoke of Lady Edith; and Helen could
have talked of her all night. Everybody was talked of : Mrs.
Beauchamp and good, hard-working Millicent; and of the pleasure
it always was to get to the village of Penwarne for a day.
Then they talked of the tenants at the mansion; and Mrs. Mills
praised them, and said how kind both Mr. and Mrs. Cleverly
were to her brother, James Gardener.
"O," said Peter, not wanting to talk of James, "how ia
Mary, and how is Mrs. Koper ? I had not time to go and see
the dear old cottage the last time I visited Father Joseph. I
hope they go on well."
"They are well enough," said Mrs.
"
Miils. Next to myself,
Mrs. Bxaper is the best person Mary could be with. She has
if he consented to a private arrangement of these money affairs,
which were unquestionably disgraceful to Drake, without giving
unnecessary trouble. Drake now knew that he would
never be admitted into the firm from which ho drewhis money.
He could not be described as the kind of character to do credit
to n large business, conducted on honest principles, by a set of falls-out with her father. He wants to smarten her up a and she won't listen to it.
bit,
If she has work enough she is satisfied;
and she was born to
wonderful deal of faith.
the wash-tub. Besides, Mary has a
She never had a clever tongue, but
she ever had a strong heart; a heart of faith it always was. She
never loved talking, but her soul could converse with the
saints; ah yes, and with their Divine Master. When she used
to be in trouble she would say to me, 'What a mercy it is that
God knows knows without explanations knows all ! things
What is the use of much talking ? There's my heart; nnd He
a heart of faith. Hho
knows all things. '
Mary had always
early took God for her fr;end, and she never doubted nor questioned.
But she provoked her father, who never understood
her. And he disliked her being of her mother's religion; but
I never did. I used to say to him, ' Let the girl alone. There's
her and Peter S nds, and they behave themselves a! ,
why should you vex your own child when you never vex
Peter ?' "
"Tliat is true," said the young man; "I never remember his
saying a word against the Catholic faith either to me or be-
fore me."
" No ; ho never did. He dared not, because of the Colonel.
And yon were a sharp one, and might have answered him. I
>ver it often. But Mary has got to bear the
"
singly now, and she has had a, good deal to bear lataly.
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