, what do you say to that?' asked Uncle Silas.

'I never _was_ at them places, so help me. I don't know where they be; and
I never set eyes on the young lady before, as I hope to be saved, in all
my days,' said he, with a countenance so unchanged and an air so confident
that I began to think I must be the dupe of one of those strange
resemblances which have been known to lead to positive identification in
the witness-box, afterwards proved to be utterly mistaken.

'You look so--so _uncomfortable_, Maud, at the idea of having seen him
before, that I hardly wonder at the vehemence of his denial. There was
plainly something disagreeable; but you see as respects him it is a total
mistake. My boy was always a truth-telling fellow--you may rely implicitly
on what he says. You were _not_ at those places?'

'I wish I may----,' began the ingenuous youth, with increased vehemence.

'There, there--that will do; your honour and word as a gentleman--and
_that_ you are, though a poor one--will quite satisfy your cousin Maud. Am
I right, my dear? I do assure you, as a gentleman, I never knew him to say
the thing that was not.'

So Mr. Dudley Ruthyn began, not to curse, but to swear, in the prescribed
form, that he had never seen me before, or the places I had named, 'since I
was weaned, by----'

'That's enough--now shake hands, if you won't kiss, like cousins,'
interrupted my uncle.

And very uncomfortably I did lend him my hand to shake.

'You'll want some supper, Dudley, so Maud and I will excuse your going.
Good-night, my dear boy,' and he smiled and waved him from the room.

'That's as fine a young fellow, I think, as any English father can boast
for his son--true, brave, and kind, and quite an Apollo. Did you observe
how finely proportioned he is, and what exquisite features the fellow has?
He's rustic and rough, as you see; but a year or two in the militia--I've a
promise of a commission for him--he's too old for the line--will form and
polish him. He wants nothing but manner; and I protest when he has had a
little drilling of that kind, I do believe he'll be as pretty a fellow as
you'd find in England.'

I listened with amazement. I could discover nothing but what was
disagreeable in the horrid bumpkin, and thought such an instance of the
blindness of parental partiality was hardly credible.

I looked down, dreading another direct appeal to my judgment; and Uncle
Silas, I suppose, referred those downcast looks to mai