to keep the patient lovers apart so long. Let them
marry, my Lord of Pulwick: it will complete the romance of the
persecuted Savenayes of Brittany and their helpful friends of the
distant North."

Musing, Sir Adrian fell into silence. The faithful, foolish heart that
never even told its secret desire, for very fear of being helped to
win it; by whom happiness and love were held to be too dearly bought
at the price of separation from the lonely exile!

"_Eh bien_, dreamer?" cried the girl gaily.

"Thank you, Molly," said Sir Adrian, turning to her with shining eyes.
"This is a pretty thought, a good thought. Renny will indeed doubly
bless the day when Providence sent you to Pulwick."

And so, the following morn, Mr. Renny Potter was summoned to hear the
tidings, and informed of the benevolent prospects more privately
concerning his own life; was bidden to thank the future Lady Landale
for her service; was gently rebuked for his long reticence, and
finally dismissed in company of the glowing Moggie with a promise that
his nuptials should be celebrated at the same time as those of the
lord of the land. The good fellow, however, required first of all an
assurance that these very fine plans would not entail any
interference with his duties to his master before he would allow
himself to be pleased at his fortunes. Great and complex, then, was
his joy; but it would have been hard to say, as Moggie confessed to
her inquiring mistress that night, when he had returned to his post,
whether the pride and delight in his master's own betrothal was not
uppermost in his bubbling spirits.

CHAPTER XX

TWO MONTHS LATER: THE QUICK AND THE DEAD

Neighbour, what doth thy husband when he cometh home from work?
He thinks of her he loved before he knew me

_Luteplayer's Song._

_February 18th._ Upon the 18th of January, 1815, did I commit that
most irreparable of all follies; then by my own hand I killed fair
Molly de Savenaye, who was so happy, so free, so much in love with
life, and whom I loved so dearly, and in her stead called into
existence Molly Landale, a poor-spirited miserable creature who has
not given me one moment's amusement. How could I have been so stupid?

Let me examine.

It is only a month ago, only a month, 4 weeks, 31 days, millions of
horrible dreary minutes, Oh, Molly, Molly, Molly! since you stood,
that snowy day, in the great drawing-room (_my_ drawing-room now, I
hate it), and vowed