'This good-looking person is, I daresay, a sweetheart of yours; so
I'll just keep astern out of ear-shot. My road lies past your
dwelling.'

The girl appeared to understand me, and, reassured, walked on, Wyatt
lopping sullenly along beside her. I did not choose to have a fellow
of his stamp, and in his present mood, walking behind _me_.

Nothing was said that I heard for about a mile and a half, when Wyatt,
with a snarling 'good-night' to the girl, turned off by a path on the
left, and was quickly out of sight.

'I am not very far from home now, sir,' said the young woman
hesitatingly. She thought, perhaps, that I might leave her, now Wyatt
had disappeared.

'Pray go on, then,' I said; 'I will see you safe there, though
somewhat pressed for time.'

We walked side by side, and after awhile she said in a low tone, and
with still downcast eyes: 'My mother lived servant in your family
once, sir.'

'The deuce! Your name is Ransome, then, I suspect.'

'Yes, sir--Mary Ransome.' A sad sigh accompanied these words. I pitied
the poor girl from my heart, but having nothing very consolatory to
suggest, I held my peace.