night. That scoundrel Levison promised me seventy-five this afternoon;
but whether I shall get it out of him is a fact only known to himself and
the powers with which he holds communion. And was the rustic business
pleasant, Gil? Did you take kindly to the syllabubs and new milk, the
summer sunrise over dewy fields, the pretty dairy-maids, and prize pigs,
and daily inspections of the home-farm? or did you find life rather dull
down at Lidford? I know the place well enough, and all the country round
about there. I have stayed at Heatherly with Sir David Forster more than
once for the shooting season. A pleasant fellow Forster, in a dissipated
good-for-nothing kind of way, always up to his eyes in debt. Did you
happen to meet him while you were down there?"

"No, I don't think the Listers know him."

"So much the better for them! It is a vice to know him. And you were not
dull at Lidford?"

"Very far from it, Jack. I was happier there than I have ever been in my
life before."

"Eh, Gil!" cried John Saltram; "that means something more than a quiet
fortnight with a married sister. Come, old fellow, I have a vested right
to a share in all your secrets."

"There is no secret, Jack. Yes, I have fallen in love, if that's what you
mean, and am engaged."

"So soon! That's rather quick work, isn't it, dear boy?"

"I don't think so. What is that the poet says?--'If not an Adam at his