but you can have some
luxuries. You can have a carriage, a horse to ride. Active service may
come: I may rise. Give yourself to me, and you must love me, and regret
nothing."

"Nothing! I should regret nothing. I don't want carriages, or horses, or
luxuries. I could live with you on a subaltern's pay. I can't marry you,
Percy, and for the very reason which would make me wish to marry you."

"Charade?" said he; and the contempt of the utterance brought her head
close under his.

"Dearest friend, you have not to learn how to punish me."

The little reproach, added to the wound to his pride, required a healing
medicament; she put her lips to his fingers.

Assuredly the comedy would not have ended there, but it was stopped by an
intrusion of the squire, followed by Sir William, who, while the
squire--full of wine and vindictive humours--went on humming, "Ah!
h'm--m--m! Soh!" said in the doorway to some one behind him: "And if you
have lost your key, and Algernon is away, of what use is it to drive down
to the Temple for a bed? I make it an especial request that you sleep
here tonight. I wish it. I have to speak with you."

Mrs. Lovell was informed that the baronet had been addressing his son,
who was fresh from Paris, and not, in his own modest opinion, presentable
before a lady.

CHAPTER XXXIII

Once more Farmer Fleming and Rhoda prepared for their melancholy journey
up to London. A light cart was at the gateway, near which Robert stood
with the farmer, who, in his stiff brown overcoat, that reached to his
ankles, and broad country-hat, kept his posture of dumb expectation like
a stalled ox, and nodded to Robert's remarks on the care which the garden
had been receiving latterly, the many roses clean in bud, and the trim
blue and white and red garden beds. Every word was a blow to him; but he
took it, as well as Rhoda's apparent dilatoriness, among the things to be
submitted to by a man cut away by the roots from the home of his labour
and old associations. Above his bowed head there was a board proclaiming
that Queen Anne's Farm, and all belonging thereunto, was for sale. His
prospect in the vague wilderness of the future, was to seek for
acceptance as a common labourer on some kind gentleman's property. The
phrase "kind gentleman" was adopted by his deliberate irony of the fate
which cast him out. Robert was stamping fretfully for Rhoda to come. At
times, Mrs. Sumfit showed her head from the window of her b