s of ale; we quarrel on the state of the Kingdom, the fall of
the cards, the cut of our coats, what you will. Carford and I would find
a cause without much searching. I was so hot that I was within an ace of
summoning him then and there to show by what right he rode so boldly
through my native village; that offence would serve as well as any
other. Yet prudence prevailed. The closed doors of the inn hid the party
from my sight, and I went on my way, determined to be about by cockcrow,
lest Carford should steal a march.

But as I went I passed the Vicar's door. He stood on the threshold,
smoking his long pipe (the good man loved Virginia and gave his love
free rein in the evening) and gazing at the sky. I tried to slink by
him, fearing to be questioned; he caught sight of my figure and called
me to him; but he made no reference to the manner of our last parting.

"Whither away, Simon?" he asked.

"To bed, sir," said I.

"It is well," said he. "And whence?"

"From a walk, sir."

His eyes met mine, and I saw them twinkle. He waved the stem of his pipe
in the air, and said,

"Love, Simon, is a divine distemper of the mind, wherein it paints bliss
with woe's palate and sees heaven from hell."

"You borrow from the poets, sir," said I surlily.

"Nay," he rejoined, "the poets from me, or from any man who has or has
had a heart in him. What, Simon, you leave me?" For I had turned away.

"It's late, sir," said I, "for the making of rhapsodies."

"You've made yours," he smiled. "Hark, what's that?"

As he spoke there came the sound of horse's hoofs. A moment later the
figures of two mounted men emerged from the darkness. By some impulse, I
know not what, I ran behind the Vicar and sheltered myself in the porch
at his back. Carford's arrival had set my mind astir again, and new
events found ready welcome. The Vicar stepped out a pace into the road
with his hand over his eyes, and peered at the strangers.

"What do you call this place, sir?" came in a loud voice from the nearer
of the riders. I started at the voice; it had struck on my ears before,
and no Englishman owned it.

"It is the village of Hatchstead, at your service," answered the Vicar.

"Is there an inn in it?"

"Ride for half a mile and you'll find a good one."

"I thank you, sir."

I could hold myself in no longer, but pushed the Vicar aside and ran out
into the road. The horsemen had already turned their faces towards the
inn, and walked along s