I cried; "only tell me at once--don't be so long."

"But then you won't believe me when I do tell you," the Major replied,
in the most provoking way. "I shall tell you the last person you would
ever think of, and then you will only laugh at me."

"I won't laugh; how can I laugh in such a matter? I will believe you if
you say it is--Aunt Mary."

"My dear, you had better say at once that it is I, and have no more
mystery about it." Mrs. Hockin was almost as impatient as myself.

"Mrs. Hockin, you must indeed entertain an exalted idea of your own
charms. I knew that you were vain, but certainly did not--Well, then,
if you will allow me no peace, this is the lady that lives down in the
ruin, and stands like a pillar by my pillar-box."

"I never thought you would joke like that," I cried, with vexation and
anger. "Oh, is it a subject to be joked about?"

"I never was graver in my life; and you promised implicitly to believe
me. At any rate, believe that I speak in earnest."

"That I must believe, when you tell me so. But what makes you think such
a wonderful thing? I should have thought nothing more impossible. I had
made up my mind that it was Flittamore who lived down here; but this can
not be she. Flittamore was unheard of at the time of my grandfather's
death. Moreover, her character was not like this; she was giddy and
light and heartless. This lady had a heart--good or bad, a deep one.
Most certainly it is not Flittamore."

"Flittamore! I do not remember that name. You should either tell us all
or tell us nothing." The Major's tone was reproachful, and his eyes from
their angular roofs looked fierce.

"I have not told you," I said, "because it can have nothing to do with
it. The subject is a painful one, and belongs to my family only."

"Enough. I am not inquisitive--on the other hand, too forgetful. I have
an appointment at 3.25. It takes me seven minutes and a quarter to get
there. I must be two minutes and three-quarters late. Mrs. Hockin, mount
the big telescope and point it at the ramparts; keep the flag up also.
Those fellows will be certain that I am up here, while I enfilade
them from the western end with this fine binocular. Surprises maintain
discipline. Good-by, my dear, and, Miss Castlewood, good-by. Tea at
6.30, and not too much water."

CHAPTER XLVI

VAIN ZEAL

Leaving his telescope leveled at the men, the Major marched off with
his opera-glass in a consciously provoking style, and Mr