MR. CHAINMAIL. I will give up anything but my baronial hall.

CAPTAIN FITZCHROME. You will never find a wife for your purpose,
unless in the daughter of some old-fashioned farmer.

MR. CHAINMAIL. No, I thank you. I must have a lady of gentle
blood; I shall not marry below my own condition: I am too much of
a herald; I have too much of the twelfth century in me for that.

CAPTAIN FITZCHROME. Why, then your chance is not much better than
mine. A well-born beauty would scarcely be better pleased with
your baronial hall than with my more humble offer of love in a
cottage. She must have a town-house, and an opera-box, and roll
about the streets in a carriage; especially if her father has a
rotten borough, for the sake of which he sells his daughter, that
he may continue to sell his country. But you were inquiring for a
guide to the ruined castle in this vicinity; I know the way and
will conduct you.

The proposal pleased Mr. Chainmail, and they set forth on their
expedition



CHAPTER XIII: THE LAKE--THE RUIN



Or vieni, Amore, e qua meco t'assetta.