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It didn't seem as if one little mite could fill the house; but it was big and empty now. John's courtship had not been so engrossing as Stephen's. They had met Miss Bradley, to be sure; and Mr. Bradley was a well-to-do man with two sons and one daughter who had been named Cleanthe, after the heroine of a story Mrs. Bradley had read in her girlhood. Mr.
Then he motioned to his daughter, who drew from beneath his pillow a few sheets of letter-paper stained and blotted with ink. This she handed to the minister. "Read it aloud," said Bradley Gaither. The minister, with some degree of embarrassment, adjusted his spectacles and read: "With this paper will be found my last will and testament.
He overworked and underfed his negroes in order that he might buy more land. Day and night he toiled, and planned, and pinched himself and the people around him to gratify his land-hunger. Bradley Gaither had one redeeming feature, his daughter Rose. For the sake of this daughter Pinetueky was willing to forgive him a great many things.
In those trances, I saw, as it were, our pleasant village green, all sparkling again with schoolboys at their pastimes; then I fancied them gathering into groups, and telling the story of the murder; again, moving away in silence towards the churchyard, to look at the grave of poor Bradley.
At the moment a half-bestial sound below, accompanied by uncertain footsteps, announced the arrival of a drunken bricklayer. "There's Joe Bradley," she said, in some alarm. "Come into my room, sir, till he's gone up; there's no harm in him when he's sober, but he ain't been sober for a week now."
The man in the window replied, "I'm Bradley." "Ah! Thank you: I've a letter for you somewhere. Here it is." He produced a note from his breast-pocket. Bradley stooped to a sitting posture in the window. "Pitch it up." It was thrown and caught cleverly.
Presently the door of the bank opened, and Sibley saw Studd Bradley lean forward eagerly, then draw back and speak hurriedly to his companions, using a gesture of satisfaction. "Something damn funny there!" Sibley said to himself, and stepped forward to Crozier with a friendly exclamation. Crozier turned rather impatiently, for his face was aflame with some exciting reflection.
She raised her blue eyes at the same moment to the Christmas decorations on the ceiling. They were standing before the parted drapery of the lance window. Midway between the arched curtains hung a spray of mistletoe the conceit of a mischievous housemaid. Their eyes met it simultaneously. Bradley had Lady Canterbridge's slim, white hand in his own.
Instantly Bradley made the rest of the strands fast about the shaft, slipped into the black tube and began a hurried descent toward the river. An instant later he stood waist deep in water beside the girl. Impulsively she reached toward him and grasped his arm.
"Said he'd die within a week," answered Had-ley, with unfailing memory. Bill Mosely looked discouraged. He privately thought Bradley was just the man to keep his word, and he did not fancy getting into difficulty with him. "That depends on whether he caught him," he said, after a while, hopefully. "I should say so, Bill."
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