held on, and was altogether an
exemplary lover; went wherever I was ordered to go, and always came
when they whistled for me; rode at my lady's jog-trot pace in the Row,
stood behind her chair at the opera, endured more classical music than
ever man heard before and lived, listened to my sweetheart's manuscript
verses, and, in a word, did my duty in that state of life to which it
had pleased God to call me; and my reward has been to be jilted with
every circumstance of ignominy on my wedding-morning."

"Jilted!" cried Vixen, her big brown eyes shining, in pleasantest
mockery. "Why I thought Lady Mabel adored you?"

"So did I," answered Roderick naively, "and I pitied the poor dear
thing for her infatuation. Had I not thought that, I should have broken
my bonds long ago. It was not the love of the Duke's acres that held
me. I still believe that Mabel was fond of me once, but Lord Mallow
bowled me out. His eloquence, his parliamentary success, and, above
all, his flattery, proved irresistible. The scoundrel brought a
marriage certificate in his pocket when he came to stay at Ashbourne,
and had the art to engage rooms at Southampton and sleep there a night
_en passant_. He left a portmanteau and a hat-box there, and that
constituted legal occupancy; so, when he won Lady Mabel's consent to an
elopement--which I believe he did not succeed in doing till the night
before our intended wedding-day--he had only to ride over to
Southampton and give notice to the parson and clerk. The whole thing
was done splendidly. Lady Mabel went out at eight o'clock, under the
pretence of going to early church. Mallow was waiting for her with a
fly, half a mile from Ashbourne. They drove to Southampton together,
and were married at ten o'clock, in the old church of St. Michael.
While the distracted Duchess and her women were hunting everywhere for
the bride, and all the visitors at Ashbourne were arraying themselves
in their wedding finery, and the village children were filling their
baskets with flowers to strew upon the pathway of the happy pair,
emblematical of the flowers which do _not_ blossom in the highway of
life, the lady was over the border with Jock o' Hazeldean! Wasn't it
fun, Vixen?"

And the jilted one flung back his handsome head and laughed long and
loud. It was too good a joke, the welcome release coming at the last
moment.

"At half-past ten there came a telegram from my runaway bride:

"'Ask Roderick to forgive me, de