The last picture was a pleasant relief in a rather sombre story, therefore we prefer to commence a stormier scene in a new chapter.  Mark and Mildred were sitting cozily by the ample fireplace,—­not at opposite corners, you may believe,—­when there was a warning ahem! at the door, and the sound of feet “a-raspin’ on the scraper.”  Mr. Alford entered and said, “Milly, your step-mother’s team is comin’ up the road.”  In a moment there was a bustle in the house, but before any preparation could be made the carriage was at the gate, and Mrs. Kinloch, accompanied by Squire Clamp, knocked at the door.

“Milly, you go into the kitchen with Mrs. Alford,” said the farmer.  “I’ll attend to matters for them.”

“No, Mr. Alford,” she answered; “you are very good, but I think I’ll stay and see them.  Shan’t I, Mark?”

Mrs. Kinloch and the lawyer entered.  She had left off her mourning, but looked as pale and thoughtful as ever.  After the common courtesies, brief and cool in this case, Mrs. Kinloch made known her errand.  She had been grieved that Mildred should have left her father’s house and remained so long with strangers, and she had now come to beg her to return home.  Mildred replied, that she had not left home without cause, and that she had no intention of going back at present.  Mrs. Kinloch looked hurt, and said that this unusual conduct, owing partly to the common and wicked prejudice against step-mothers, had wounded her sorely, and she hoped Mildred would do her the simple justice of returning to a mother who loved her, and would make every sacrifice for her happiness.  Mildred said she did not wish to go over the ground again; she thought she understood the love that had been shown her; and she did not desire any further sacrifices, such as she had witnessed.  The request was renewed in various forms, but to no purpose.  Then Squire Clamp interposed with great solemnity, saying, that, if she had forgotten the respect and affection due to the mother who had fostered her, she ought to know that the law had conferred upon him, as her guardian, the authority of a father, and he begged her not to give him the pain of exercising the control which it would be his bounden duty to use.

Mr. Alford had been uneasy during this conversation, and broke in at the first pause.

“Well, Square, I guess you’d best wait till ’bout next week-a-Thursday afore you try to use your ’thority.  Probate Court sets on Wednesday, an’ I guess that’ll ’bout wind up your business as guardeen.”

What a magazine of wrath that shot exploded!  The lawyer was dumb for a moment, but presently he and Mrs. Kinloch both found breath for their indignation.

The woman turned first upon Mark.  “This is your doing, Sir!”

“You do too much honor to my foresight,” he replied.  “I am heartily glad that my good friend here was thoughtful enough and ready to interfere for the protection of a fatherless girl.”