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kind. Again, again, and yet a dozen times again. “Haunt and hunt him, haunt and hunt him. Drag him to us, drag him to us!” Deafening the whole town!

“Meg,” said Trotty softly: tapping at her door. “Do you hear anything?”

“I hear the Bells, father. Surely they’re very loud to-night.”

“Is she asleep?” said Toby, making an excuse for peeping in.

“So peacefully and happily! I can’t leaver her yet though, father. Look how she holds my hand!”

“Meg,” whispered Trotty. “Listen to the Bells!”

She listened, with her face towards him all the time. But it underwent no change. She didn’t understand them.

Trotty withdrew, resumed his seat by the fire, and once more listened by himself. He remained here a little time.

It was impossible to bear it; their energy was dreadful.

“If the tower-door is really open,” said Toby, hastily laying aside his apron, but never thinking of his hat, “what’s to hinder me from going up into the steeple and satisfying myself? If it’s shut, I don’t want any other satisfaction. That’s enough.”

He was pretty certain as he slipped out quietly into the street that he should find it shut and locked, for he knew the door well, and had so rarely seen it open, that he couldn’t reckon above three times in all. It was a low arched portal, outside the church, in a dark nook behind a column; and had such great iron hinges, and such a monstrous lock, that there