ot the
ordinary cut of parson. T'other side of the water we'd fly high.
They'll not have heard of Port Nassau, over there, nor of the little
nest at Sabines; and with Lady Caroline to give us a jump-off--I have
her promise. She runs a Chapel of her own, somewhere off St. James's.
Give me a chance to preach to the fashionable--let me get a foot inside
the pulpit door--and, with you to turn their heads in the Mall below,
strike me if I wouldn't finish up a Bishop! _La belle Sauvage_--they'd
put it around I'd found my beauty in the backwoods, and converted her.
. . . Well, what d'ye say? Isn't that a prettier prospect than to end
as Sir Oliver's cast-off?"

She put a hand backwards, and found a gate-rail to steady her.

"Ah! . . . How you dare!" she managed to murmur.

"Dare? Eh! you're thinking of Sir Oliver?" He laughed easily.
"Lady Caroline will put _that_ all right. He'll be furious at first, no
doubt; my fine gentleman thinks himself the lion in the fable--when he
shares out the best for himself, no dog dares bark. But we'll give him
the go-by, and afterwards he can't squeal without showing himself the
public fool. . . . Squeal? I hope he will. I owe him one."

At this moment young George and Increase Cordery came past the far
corner of the house with their team, their harness-chains jingling as
they rode afield. At sight of them a strong temptation assailed Ruth,
but she thrust it from her.

"Sir"--she steadied her voice--"bethink you, please, that I have only to
lift a hand and those two, with their brothers, will drag you through
the farm pond."

Before he could answer, she called to them. As they turned and walked
their horses towards her she glanced at Mr. Silk, half mischievously in
spite of her fierce anger. He was visibly perturbed; but his face,
mottled yellow with terror, suggested loathing rather than laughter.

"I am sorry to trouble you, but will you please fetch Mr. Silk's horse?
He must return at once."

When they were gone she turned to him.

"I am sorry to dismiss you thus, sir, after the--the honour you have
done me; the more sorry because you will never understand."

Indeed--his scare having passed--he was genuinely surprised, indignant.

"I understand this much," he answered coarsely, "that I've offered to
make you an honest woman, but you prefer to be--" The word was on his
tongue-tip, but hung fire there.

She had turned her back on him, and stood with her arms restin