sad. To see a gentleman----"

"In the clothes of a harlequin, and begging?" I suggested.

"To see a gentleman in distress, and nobly supporting it," she said.

"And do you not understand, my fair foe," said I, "that even if all were
as you say--even if you had thought my travesty were becoming--I should
be only the more anxious for my sake, for my country's sake, and for the
sake of your kindness, that you should see him whom you have helped as
God meant him to be seen? that you should have something to remember him
by at least more characteristic than a misfitting sulphur-yellow suit,
and half a week's beard?"

"You think a great deal too much of clothes," she said. "I am not that
kind of girl."

"And I am afraid I am that kind of a man," said I. "But do not think of
me too harshly for that. I talked just now of something to remember by.
I have many of them myself, of these beautiful reminders, of these
keepsakes, that I cannot be parted from until I lose memory and life.
Many of them are great things, many of them are high virtues--charity,
mercy, faith. But some of them are trivial enough. Miss Flora, do you
remember the day that I first saw you, the day of the strong east wind?
Miss Flora, shall I tell you what you wore?"

We had both risen to our feet, and she had her hand already on the door
to go. Perhaps this attitude emboldened me to profit by the last seconds
of our interview; and it certainly rendered her escape the more easy.

"O, you are too romantic!" she said, laughing; and with that my sun was
blown out, my enchantress had fled away, and I was again left alone in
the twilight with the lady hens.

CHAPTER IX

THREE IS COMPANY, AND FOUR NONE

The rest of the day I slept in the corner of the hen-house upon Flora's
shawl. Nor did I awake until a light shone suddenly in my eyes, and
starting up with a gasp (for, indeed, at the moment I dreamed I was
still swinging from the Castle battlements) I found Ronald bending over
me with a lantern. It appeared it was past midnight, that I had slept
about sixteen hours, and that Flora had returned her poultry to the shed
and I had heard her not. I could not but wonder if she had stooped to
look at me as I slept. The puritan hens now slept irremediably; and
being cheered with the promise of supper I wished them an ironical
good-night, and was lighted across the garden and noiselessly admitted
to a bedroom on the ground-floor of the cottage. There I fou