"I hope there'll be plenty of birds, and strong on the wing," said I.

This ended all the talk that passed between us on the great event that
had so strangely brought us together. He, the squire of half a dozen
villages, went duck-shooting while the destiny of England was being
settled just outside his own door.

For the second time Nance walked a space by my side to wish me good-bye.

"Nance, my sweet lass," said I, pulling Sultan up, "do you know that
dirty little ale-house near your home?"

"Where the painted woman lives, sir?"

"That very place! Now Swift Nicks is hiding there. Go back and tell the
Squire you can find Swift Nicks for him, and they'll fill your pinner with
guineas. You'll kiss me for a pinnerfull of guineas, won't you?"

"No, sir," said she very decidedly.

"Then kiss me, Nance, because, though we shall never meet again, we've
helped one another when we did meet."

She put her foot on mine, and I lifted her up in my arms and kissed her
red young lips and tear-stained cheeks.

"Good-bye, Nance!"

"Good-bye, sir. God bless you!"