ve
asked me for the truth of this elopement, Captain Parsons. There were
constant quarrels between my father and Mr. Withycombe Roscoe over a
hedge, or wall, or ditch--some matter contemptibly insignificant, but
if the value of the few rods or perches of ground had been represented
by the National Debt, there could not have been hotter blood, more
ill-feeling between them. Litigation was incessant, and I am sorry to
say that it still continues, though I should be glad to end it."

"Sort of entailed lawsuit, I suppose?" said the captain, smoking with
enjoyment, and listening with interest and respect.

"Just so," said I, finding now a degree of happiness in this candour;
it was a kind of easing of my conscience to tell this man my story,
absolute stranger as he had been to me but a few hours before. "Mr.
Roscoe died, and Lady Amelia took a house in London. I met her niece
at the house of a friend, and fell in love with her."

"So I should think," exclaimed Captain Parsons, "never saw a sweeter
young lady in all my time."

"Well, to cut short this part of the story--when her ladyship learnt
that her niece was in love, and discovered who her sweetheart was--this
occupied a few months I may tell you--she packed the girl off to
Boulogne, to a Mademoiselle Championet, who keeps a sort of school at
that place, though Grace was sent there professedly to learn French.
This mademoiselle is some sort of poor connection of Lady Amelia, a
bigotted Catholic, as her ladyship is, and it soon grew clear to my
mind, from letters I received from Miss Bellassys--despatched in the
old romantic fashion--"

"What fashion's that?" called out the captain.

"The bribed housemaid, sir. It soon grew clear to my mind, I say, that
Lady Amelia's main object in sending the girl to Mademoiselle
Championet was to get her converted."

"Bad! bad!" cried Captain Parsons.

"Her letters," I continued, growing hot as I spoke, "were all about
Mademoiselle Championet's devices and mean dodges--how Miss Bellassys
was taken to mass--how she was allowed to read nothing but Catholic
books--how she was left alone with a priest--"

"A d----d shame!" whipped out the captain. "And such a sweet young
English woman too!"

"Do you need to hear more?" said I, smiling. "I love the girl and she
loves me; she was an orphan, and I did not consider the aunt a right
and proper guardian for her; she consented to elope, and we did elope,
and here we are, captai