cuse me, Miss, if
I ask one question," he said, in tones too low to be heard by any other
person. "Are you really fond of Amelius?"

"I am surprised you should doubt it," she answered; "I am more--much
more than fond of him!"

Rufus handed her silently into the carriage, "Fond of him, are you?" he
thought, as he walked away by himself. "I reckon it's a sort of fondness
that don't wear well, and won't stand washing."

CHAPTER 8

Early the next morning, Rufus rang at the cottage gate.

"Well, Mr. Frenchman, and how do _you_ git along? And how's Amelius?"

Toff, standing before the gate, answered with the utmost respect, but
showed no inclination to let the visitor in.

"Amelius has his intervals of laziness," Rufus proceeded; "I bet he's in
bed!"

"My young master was up and dressed an hour ago, sir--he has just gone
out."

"That is so, is it? Well, I'll wait till he comes back." He pushed by
Toff, and walked into the cottage. "Your foreign ceremonies are clean
thrown away on me," he said, as Toff tried to stop him in the hall. "I'm
the American savage; and I'm used up with travelling all night. Here's
a little order for you: whisky, bitters, lemon, and ice--I'll take a
cocktail in the library."

Toff made a last desperate effort to get between the visitor and
the door. "I beg your pardon, sir, a thousand times; I must most
respectfully entreat you to wait--"

Before he could explain himself, Rufus, with the most perfect good
humour, pulled the old man out of his way. "What's troubling this
venerable creature's mind--" he inquired of himself, "does he think I
don't know my way in?"

He opened the library door--and found himself face to face with Sally.
She had risen from her chair, hearing voices outside, and hesitating
whether to leave the room or not. They confronted each other, on either
side of the table, in silent dismay. For once Rufus was so completely
bewildered, that he took refuge in his customary form of greeting before
he was aware of it himself.

"How do you find yourself, Miss? I take pleasure in renewing our
acquaintance,--Thunder! that's not it; I reckon I'm off my head. Do me
the favour, young woman, to forget every word I've said to you. If any
mortal creature had told me I should find you here, I should have said
'twas a lie--and I should have been the liar. That makes a man feel
bad, I can tell you. No! don't slide off, if you please, into the next
room--_that_ won't set things ri