afraid of him. Dolcy, you know, is very fleet, and when I touched her with
the whip she soon put half a mile between me and the village. Then I
brought her to a walk and--and he quickly overtook me.

"When he came up to me he said: 'I feared to follow you, though I ardently
wished to do so. I dreaded to tell you my name lest you should hate me.
Sir Malcolm at The Peacock said he would not disclose to you my identity.
I am John Manners. Our fathers are enemies.'

"Then I said to him, 'That is the reason I wish to talk to you. I wished
you to come to meet me because I wanted to tell you that I regret and
deplore the feud between our fathers.'--'Ah, you wished me to come?' he
asked.--'Of course I did,' I answered, 'else why should I be here?'--'No
one regrets the feud between our houses so deeply as I,' replied Sir John.
'I can think of nothing else by day, nor can I dream of anything else by
night. It is the greatest cause for grief and sorrow that has ever come
into my life.' You see, Cousin Malcolm," the girl continued, "I was right.
His father's conduct does trouble him. Isn't he noble and broad-minded to
see the evil of his father's ways?"

I did not tell the girl that Sir John's regret for the feud between the
houses of Manners and Vernon grew out of the fact that it separated him
from her; nor did I tell her that he did not grieve over his "father's
ways."

I asked, "Did Sir John tell you that he grieved because of his father's
ill-doing?"

"N-o, not in set terms, but--that, of course, would have been very hard
for him to say. I told you what he said, and there could be no other