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"I am confused. I do not understand," he faltered, as he caught his wife's hand in his.

"Lil, can't you shake hands with your old friend?" said Fred, as the tall graceful girl looked at him half pleased, half shrinkingly.

"And your father has done all this, Fred?" said Scarlett, in an eager whisper.

"Yes; I found him busy one day when I came home for a visit, and it has been his task ever since."

"But--for Heaven's sake, man, be frank with me--he meant it for your home?"

"Scarlett Markham, because my father differed from you in politics, and sided against the king, don't brand him as a cowardly miser. No; he said that some day Sir Godfrey would return, and that he would show him that he had not forgotten they once were friends."

"Father, do you hear this?" cried Scarlett. "Colonel Forrester, is the old time coming back?"

"Please God, my boy, now that the sword is to be beaten into a ploughshare. Godfrey Markham, I did this in all sincerity. Will you accept it from your enemy?"

"No," cried Sir Godfrey; "but I will from my true old friend." And as, trembling with emotion, he grasped the colonel's hands, he turned to see Lady Markham in Mistress Forrester's arms.

Meanwhile, a curious scene had been taking place at the back of the Hall, where Nat had directed his steps to lament over the weeds and ruin of the neglected place. He had walked on along familiar paths through the plantation to the back of the kitchen garden, passed through an old oaken gate in the high stone wall, and there stopped aghast.

"Here, who's been meddling now?" he cried. "Who's been doing this?"

For, in place of the ruin he had expected, he found everything in the trimmest order--young crops sprung, trees pruned, walks clean, everything as it should be; and, worse than all, a broad-shouldered man, looking like himself, busy at work with a hoe destroying the weeds which had sprung up since the last shower.

Nat did not hesitate, but walked down the path, and at right angles on to the bed, where he hit the intruder on the chest with his doubled fist.

"So it's you, is it, Samson?"

"Yes, it's me, Nat," was the reply; and the blow was returned.

"How are you, Samson?" said Nat; and he hit his brother again on the other side.

"Tidy, Nat. How are you?" replied Samson, returning the blow.

"You've got a bit stouter."

"So have you."

"Long time since we met."

"Ay, 'tis."

"Like this here garden?"

"Middling."

Each of these little questions and answers was accompanied by a blow dealt right out from the shoulder, sharp and short, till the men's chests must have been a mass of bruises. Then they drew back, and stared at each other.

"Who told you to come and work in my garden?" said Nat at last.

"Nobody; I did it out of my own head."

"And pray why?"

"Because I thought, if ever you came back, it would make you mad."

"So it has. How would you like me to come and rout about in your garden?"

"Dunno. Come and try."

"Well, I would ha' put in that row o' beans straight if I did."

"Straight enough, Natty; it's your eyes are crooked. Come back to stop?"

"No; going back to furren abroad."

"Then what's the good of my master building up the house again?"

"What? Did he?"

"Ay; came and see me doing up your garden as it had never been done up before, and went away and ordered in the workpeople."

"Hum!" said Nat.

"Ha!" said Samson.

"Well, aren't you going to shake hands?"

"Ay, might as well. How are you, Nat?"

"Quite well, thank you, Samson. How are you?"

"Feel as if I should be all the better for a mug o' cider. What says you?"

"Same as you."

"Then come on."

And Nat came on.

For peace was made, and though rumours of the next war at the Restoration came down to the west, those who had been enemies stirred not from the ingle-side again till Fred Forrester was called away; but Scarlett had become a student and a scholar, and the young friends met no more in strife. When they did encounter, and ran over the troubles of the past, it was with a calm feeling of satisfaction in the present, and the old war time as years slipped by seemed to them both as a dream.

"Yes," cried Sir Godfrey, eagerly, as he laid his hand on Colonel Forrester's shoulder; "some day, with all my heart."

"I am very glad," said the stern colonel, smiling at a group by the house where the ladies were seated, and Fred and Lil, so intent on each other's converse, that they did not perceive that they were watched.

But other eyes had noted everything during the past year, and it was evident that the time would come when Fred Forrester and Scarlett Markham would be something more than friends.

THE END.

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