soon as might
be. Too long had this Rasselas--occupied, like the famous Prince
of Abyssinia, with _the choice of life_--neglected to resort to his
academic Imlac. In the meantime he could only reflect that Margaret must
remain as a pupil at Miss Marlett's. The moment would soon be arriving
when some other home, and a chaperon instead of a school-mistress, must
be found for this peculiar object of philanthropy and outdoor relief.

Maitland was sorry he had not left town by the nine o'clock train. The
early dusk began to gather, gray and damp; the train was late, having
made tardy progress through the half-melted snow. He had set out from
Paddington by the half-past ten express, and a glance at the harsh and
crabbed page of Bradshaw will prove to the most sceptical that Maitland
could not reach Tiverton much before six. Half frozen, and in anything
but a happy temper, he engaged a fly, and drove off, along heavy
miserable roads, to the Dovecot.

Arriving at the closed and barred gates of that vestal establishment,
Maitland's cabman "pulled, and pushed, and kicked, and knocked" for a
considerable time, without manifest effect. Clearly the retainers of
Miss Marlett had secured the position for the night, and expected
no visitors, though Maitland knew that he ought to be expected. "The
bandogs bayed and howled," as they did round the secret bower of the
Lady of Brauksome; and lights flitted about the windows. When a lantern
at last came flickering up to the gate, the bearer of it stopped to
challenge an apparently unlooked-for and unwelcome stranger.

"Who are you? What do you want?" said a female voice, in a strong
Devonian accent.

"I want Miss Marlett," answered Maitland.

There was some hesitation. Then the porter appeared to reflect that a
burglar would not arrive in a cab, and that a surreptitious lover would
not ask for the schoolmistress.

The portals were at length unbarred and lugged apart over the gravel,
and Maitland followed the cook (for she was no one less) and the candle
up to the front door. He gave his card, and was ushered into the chamber
reserved for interviews with parents and guardians. The drawing-room had
the air and faint smell of a room very seldom occupied. All the chairs
were so elegantly and cunningly constructed that they tilted up at
intervals, and threw out the unwary male who trusted himself to their
hospitality. Their backs were decorated with antimacassars wrought with
glass beads,