ceive you, and you have enjoyed a
very adequate revenge. Do not prolong this interview to the point of
inflicting torture on two hearts whose only crime is that of loving
too ardently. You have your daughter. Suffer me to return to the
inn in the village, and in the morning I will call on you with my
credentials and humbly ask for her hand. If, on due examination of
my history and circumstances, you see fit to refuse me--why then you
make two lovers miserable: but I give you my word--the word of a
Fitzroy Pilkington--that I will respect that decision. 'Parcius
junctas quatiam fenestras': or, rather, I will discontinue the
practice altogether."

"William," said Sir Harry, shortly, to the footman, "show Mr.
Pilkington to the door. Will you take your ladder away with you,
sir, or will you call for it to-morrow?"

"To-morrow will do," I said, airily, and stepping across to Mistress
Kate I took her hand and raised it as if for a kiss. Her fingers
gave mine an appreciative squeeze.

"But who in the world are you?" she whispered.

"I think," said I, bending over her hand, "I have fairly earned the
right to withhold that."

Sir Harry bowed a stiff good night to me, and William, the footman,
took a candle and led the way along the gallery and down the great
staircase to the front door. While he undid the chain and bolts I
was thinking that he would be all the better for a kick; and as he
drew aside to let me pass I took him quickly by the collar, spun him
round, and gave him one. A flight of a dozen steps led down from the
front door, and he pitched clean to the bottom. Running down after,
I skipped over his prostrate body and walked briskly away in the
darkness, whistling and feeling better.

I went round the end of the gallery wing, just to satisfy myself that
Jimmy had got away with the ladder, and then I struck across the
plantation in the direction of the village. The June day was
breaking before I turned out of the woods into the high road, and
already the mowers were out and tramping to their work. But in the
porchway of the village inn--called the "Well-diggers' Arms"--
whatever they may be--I surprised a cockneyfied groom in the act of
kissing a maiden who, having a milk-pail in either hand, could not be
expected to resist.

"H'm," said I to the man, "I am sorry to appear inopportunely, but I
have a message for your master."

The maiden fled. "And who the doose may you be?" asked the groom,
eyei