he ever speak of--the--lady he is going to marry?"

"Lady?" repeated Adam, giving a sudden twist to his hat.

"Yes,--the lady--who lives in London?"

"No, Miss Anthea," answered Adam, screwing his hat tighter, and tighter.

"Why--what do you mean?"

"I mean--as there never was no lady, Miss Anthea,--neither up to Lonnon,
nor nowhere's else, as I ever heard on."

"But--oh Adam!--you--told me--"

"Ah!--for sure I told ye, but it were a lie, Miss Anthea,--leastways, it
weren't the truth. Ye see, I were afraid as you'd refuse to take the
money for the furnitur' unless I made ye believe as he wanted it
uncommon bad. So I up an' told ye as he'd bought it all on account o'
him being matrimonially took wi' a young lady up to Lonnon--"

"And then--you went to--him, and warned him--told him of the story you
had invented?"

"I did, Miss Anthea; at first, I thought as he were going to up an' give
me one for myself, but, arterwards he took it very quiet, an' told me as
I'd done quite right, an' agreed to play the game. An' that's all about
it, an' glad I am as it be off my mind at last. Ah' now, Miss Anthea
mam, seeing you're that rich--wi' Master Georgy's fortun',--why you can
pay back for the furnitur'--if so be you're minded to. An' I hope as you
agree wi' me as I done it all for the best, Miss Anthea?"

Here, Adam unscrewed his hat, and knocked out the wrinkles against his
knee, which done, he glanced at Anthea:

"Why--what is it, Miss Anthea?"

"Nothing, Adam,--I haven't slept well, lately--that's all"

"Ah, well!--you'll be all right again now,--we all shall,--now the
mortgage be paid off,--shan't we, Miss Anthea?"

"Yes, Adam."

"We 'ad a great day--over to Cranbrook, Master Georgy an' me, he be in
the kitchen now, wi' Prudence--a-eating of bread an' jam. Good-night,
Miss Anthea mam, if you should be wanting me again I shall be in the
stables,--Good-night, Miss Anthea!" So, honest, well-meaning Adam
touched his forehead with a square-ended finger, and trudged away. But
Anthea sat there, very still, with drooping head, and vacant eyes.

And so it was done, the irrevocable step had been taken; she had given
her promise! So now, having chosen her course, she must follow
it--to the end.

For, in Arcadia, it would seem that a promise is still a sacred thing.

Now, in a while, lifting her eyes, they encountered those of the smiling
Cavalier above the mantel. Then, as she looked, she stretched out her
arms wit