"

Saying which, Bellew turned from the window, and took up a certain
bulging, be-strapped portmanteau, while the Black-bird, (having,
evidently, hearkened to his request with much grave attention), fell a
singing more gloriously than ever.

Meanwhile, Bellew descended the great, wide stair, soft of foot, and
cautious of step, yet pausing once to look towards a certain closed
door, and so, presently let himself quietly out into the dawn. The dew
sparkled in the grass, it hung in glittering jewels from every leaf, and
twig, while, now and then, a shining drop would fall upon him as he
passed, like a great tear.

Now, as he reached the orchard, up rose the sun in all his majesty
filling the world with the splendour of his coming,--before whose kindly
beams the skulking mists and shadows shrank affrighted, and fled
utterly away.

This morning, "King Arthur" wore his grandest robes of state, for his
mantle of green was thick sewn with a myriad flaming gems; very
different he looked from that dark, shrouded giant who had so lately
been Conspirator No. Two. Yet, perhaps for this very reason, Bellew
paused to lay a hand upon his mighty, rugged hole, and, doing so, turned
and looked back at the House of Dapplemere.

And truly never had the old house seemed so beautiful, so quaint, and
peaceful as now. It's every stone and beam had become familiar and, as
he looked, seemed to find an individuality of its own, the very lattices
seemed to look back at him, like so many wistful eyes.

Therefore George Bellew, American Citizen, millionaire, traveller,
explorer, and--LOVER, sighed as he turned away,--sighed as he strode on
through the green and golden morning, and resolutely--looked back
no more.

CHAPTER XXIX

_Of the moon's message to Small Porges, and how he told it to Bellew--in
a whisper_

Bellew walked on at a good pace with his back turned resolutely towards
the House of Dapplemere, and thus, as he swung into that narrow, grassy
lane that wound away between trees, he was much surprised to hear a
distant hail. Facing sharp about he espied a diminutive figure whose
small legs trotted very fast, and whose small fist waved a
weather-beaten cap.

Bellew's first impulse was to turn, and run. But Bellew rarely acted on
impulse; therefore, he set down the bulging portmanteau, seated himself
upon it, and taking out pipe and tobacco, waited for his pursuer to
come up.

"Oh Uncle Porges!" panted a voice, "you did walk