say; since my brother left he has had nobody else to listen to him; and
to-night he was particularly tedious on his usual topics--draining, and
tenant-farmers, and the village people. I must take daddy to London; he
gets so narrow always staying here.'

'And what did you say to it all?'

'Well, I took the part of the tenant-farmers, of course, as the beloved
of one should in duty do.' There followed a little break or gasp,
implying a strangled sigh.

'You are sorry you have encouraged that beloving one?'

'O no, Nicholas . . . What is it you want to see me for particularly?'

'I know you are sorry, as time goes on, and everything is at a dead-lock,
with no prospect of change, and your rural swain loses his freshness!
Only think, this secret understanding between us has lasted near three
year, ever since you was a little over sixteen.'

'Yes; it has been a long time.'

'And I an untamed, uncultivated man, who has never seen London, and knows
nothing about society at all.'

'Not uncultivated, dear Nicholas. Untravelled, socially unpractised, if
you will,' she said, smiling. 'Well, I did sigh; but not because I
regret being your promised one. What I do sometimes regret is that the
scheme, which my meetings with you are but a part of, has not been
carried out completely. You said, Nicholas, that if I consented to swear