ir and
liberty, all he had to offer; and called on me to say how I liked them. And
then he called Milly to him, kissed her tenderly, smiled sadly upon her,
and turning to Cousin Monica, said--

'This is my daughter Milly--oh! she has been presented to you down-stairs,
has she? You have, no doubt, been interested by her. As I told her cousin
Maud, though I am not yet quite a Sir Tunbelly Clumsy, she is a very
finished Miss Hoyden. Are not you, my poor Milly? You owe your distinction,
my dear, to that line of circumvallation which has, ever since your birth,
intercepted all civilisation on its way to Bartram. You are much obliged,
Milly, to everybody who, whether naturally or _un_-naturally, turned a sod
in that invisible, but impenetrable, work. For your accomplishments--rather
singular than fashionable--you are indebted, in part, to your cousin, Lady
Knollys. Is not she, Monica? _Thank_ her, Milly.'

'This is your _truce_, Silas,' said Lady Knollys, with a quiet sharpness.
'I think, Silas Ruthyn, you want to provoke me to speak in a way before
these young creatures which we should all regret.'

'So my badinage excites your temper, Monnie. Think how you _would_ feel,
then, if I had found you by the highway side, mangled by robbers, and set
my foot upon your throat, and spat in your face. But--stop this. Why have I
said this? simply to emphasize my forgiveness. See, girls, Lady Knollys and
I, cousins long estranged, forget and forgive the past, and join hands over
its buried injuries.'

'Well, _be_ it so; only let us have done with ironies and covert taunts.'

And with these words their hands were joined; and Uncle Silas, after he had
released hers, patted and fondled it with his, laughing icily and very low
all the time.

'I wish so much, dear Monica,' he said, when this piece of silent by-play
was over, 'that I could ask you to stay to-night; but absolutely I have not
a bed to offer, and even if I had, I fear my suit would hardly prevail.'

Then came Lady Knollys' invitation for Milly and me. He was very much
obliged; he smiled over it a great deal, meditating. I thought he was
puzzled; and amid his smiles, his wild eyes scanned Cousin Monica's frank
face once or twice suspiciously.

There was a difficulty--an _undefined_ difficulty--about letting us go that
day; but on a future one--soon--_very_ soon--he would be most happy.

Well, there was an end of that little project, for to-day at least; and
Cousin Monica