aster--which I take to be the most important of all marriage
settlements. And, unless I am very much mistaken, it will be the right
one--the lady. My little heroine, Jerry Carroway, is engaged as their
factotum, and every auspice is favorable. But without your consent, all
is knocked on the head; for the cottage is yours, and the tenant won't
go out, even under temptation of five guineas, without your written
order. Mistress Anerley, I appeal to you. Captain, say nothing. This is
a lady's question."

"Then I like to have a little voice sometimes, though it is not often
that I get it. And, Mr. Mordacks, I say 'Yes.' And out of the five
guineas we shall get our rent, or some of it, perhaps, from Poacher Tim,
who owes us nigh upon two years now."

The farmer smiled at his wife's good thrift, and, being in a pleasant
mood, consented, if so be the law could not be brought against him, and
if the young couple would not stop too long, or have any family to
fall upon the rates. The factor assured him against all evils; and then
created quite a brisk sensation by telling them, in strict confidence,
that the young officer was one Lancelot Yordas, own first cousin to the
famous Robin Lyth, and nephew to Sir Duncan Yordas. And the lady was the
daughter of Sir Duncan's oldest friend, the very one whose name he had
given to his son. Wonder never ceased among them, when they thought how
things came round.

Things came round not only thus, but also even better afterward.
Mordacks had a very beautiful revenge of laughter at old Jellicorse, by
outstripping him vastly in the family affairs. But Mr. Jellicorse did
not care, so long as he still had eleven boxes left of title-deeds to
Scargate Hall, no liability about the twelfth, and a very fair prospect
of a lawsuit yet for the multiplication of the legal race. And meeting
Mr. Mordacks in the highest legal circles, at Proctor Brigant's, in
Crypt Court, York, he acknowledged that he never met a more delightful
gentleman, until he found out what his name was. And even then he
offered him a pinch of snuff, and they shook hands very warmly without
anything to pay.

When Robin Lyth came home he was dissatisfied at first--so difficult is
mankind to please--because his good luck had been too good. No scratch
of steel, no permanent scorch of powder, was upon him, and England was
not in the mood to value any unwounded valor. But even here his good
luck stood him in strong stead, and cured his w