dead jackdaw.'

'I took her for what she is, and she may slap, scream, tear, and bite, I
'll take her yet-and all her tribe crying thief, by way of a diversion.
She and I are footed a pair.'

His impetuosity surpassed mine so much that I fell to brooding on the
superior image of my charmer. The result was, I could not keep away from
her. I managed to get home with leaden limbs. Next day I was back at
Dipwell.

Such guilt as I have to answer for I may avow. I made violent love to
this silly country beauty, and held every advantage over her other
flatterers. She had met me on the evening of the great twenty-first, she
and a line of damsels dressed in white and wearing wreaths, and I had
claimed the privilege of saluting her. The chief superintendent of the
festivities, my father's old cook, Monsieur Alphonse, turned twilight
into noonday with a sheaf of rockets at the moment my lips brushed her
cheek. It was a kiss marred; I claimed to amend it. Besides, we had been
bosom friends in childhood. My wonder at the growth of the rose I had
left but an insignificant thorny shoot was exquisite natural flattery,
sweet reason, to which she could not say nonsense. At each step we trod
on souvenirs, innocent in themselves, had they recurred to childish
minds. The whisper, 'Hark! it's sunset, Mabel, Martha Thresher calls,'
clouded her face with stormy sunset colours. I respected Martha even then
for boldly speaking to me on the girl's behalf. Mrs. Waddy's courage
failed. John Thresher and Mark Sweetwinter were overcome by my father's
princely prodigality; their heads were turned, they appeared to have
assumed that I could do no wrong. To cut short the episode, some one
wrote to the squire in uncouth English, telling him I was courting a
country lass, and he at once started me for the Continent. We had some
conversation on money before parting. The squire allowed me a thousand a
year, independent of my own income. He counselled prudence, warned me
that I was on my trial, and giving me his word of honour that he should
not spy into my Bank accounts, desired me to be worthy of the trust
reposed in me. Speculation he forbade. I left him satisfied with the
assurance that I meant to make my grand tour neither as a merchant, a
gambler, nor a rake, but simply as a plain English gentleman.

'There's nothing better in the world than that,' said he.

Arrived in London, I left my travelling companion, the Rev. Ambrose
Peterborough, sipping