his hand to her to withdraw, and she accordingly fell into the back ground; but her fixed eye did not leave her husband for a second.
"John Conyers, it is your friend, Mr. Vivian Grey, who is here," said Vivian.
"Grey!" moaned the husbandman, "Grey! who is he?"
"Your friend, John Conyers. Do you quite forget me?" said Vivian advancing, and with a tone which Vivian Grey could alone assume.
"I think I have seen you, and you were kind," and the face was again hid.
"And always will be kind, John Conyers. I have come to comfort you. I thought that a friend's voice would do you good in this hour of your affliction. Come, come, my good Conyers, cheer up, my man!" and Vivian dared to touch him. His hand was not repulsed. "Do you remember what good service you did me when I rode white-footed Moll. Oh! John Conyers, when the mare was plunging on the hill-top, I was much worse off than you are now;
