t of it is that I have offended my gentleman,
for the sake of my girl: which last is a luxury I can't afford, unless I
let the rooms again. If you hear of a tenant, say what a good landlord I
am, and what sweet pretty rooms I've got to let."

I led the way to the bank of the river, before Mr. Toller could make any
more requests.

We passed the side of the old cottage. The door was open; and I saw
Cristel employed in the kitchen.

My watch told me that I had still two or three minutes to spare; and my
guilty remembrance of the message that I had pinned to the door suggested
an immediate expression of regret. I approached Cristel with a petition
for pardon on my lips. She looked distrustfully at the door of
communication with the new cottage, as if she expected to see it opened
from the other side.

"Not now!" she said--and went on sadly with her household work.

"May I see you to-morrow?" I asked.

"It had better not be here, sir," was the only reply she made.

I offered to meet her at any other place which she might appoint. Cristel
persisted in leaving it to me; she spoke absently, as if she was thinking
all the time of something else. I could propose no better place, at the
moment, than the spring in Fordwitch Wood. She consented to meet me
there, on the next day, if seven o'clock in the morning would not be too
early for me. My German habits had accustomed me to early rising. She
heard me tell her this--and looked again at the Lodger's door--and
abruptly wished me good evening.

Her polite father was shocked at this unceremonious method of dismissing
the great man, who had only to say the word and stop the repairs. "Where
are your manners, Cristy?" he asked indignantly. Before he could say
another word, I was out of the cottage.

As I passed the spring on my way home, I thought of my two appointments.
On that evening, my meeting with the daughter of the lord. On the next
morning, my meeting with the daughter of the miller. Lady Lena at dinner;
Cristel before breakfast. If Mrs. Roylake found out _that_ social
contrast, what would she say? I was a merry young fool; I burst out
laughing.

CHAPTER IX

MRS ROYLAKE'S GAME: FIRST MOVE

The dinner at Trimley Deen has left in my memory little that I can
distinctly recall. Only a faintly-marked vision of Lady Lena rewards me
for doing my best to remember her. A tall slim graceful person, dressed
in white with a simplicity which is the perfection of art, pres