."

"Did you find that any objection?" cried Smirke piteously, and alluding,
of course, to the elderly subject of Pen's own passion.

The lad felt the hint, and blushed quite red. "The cases are not
similar, Smirke," he said, "and the allusion might have been spared. A
man may forget his own rank and elevate any woman to it: but allow me to
say our positions are very different."

"How do you mean, dear Arthur?" the Curate interposed sadly, cowering as
he felt that his sentence was about to be read.

"Mean?" said Arthur. "I mean what I say. My tutor, I say my tutor, has
no right to ask a lady of my mother's rank of life to marry him. It's
a breach of confidence. I say it's a liberty you take, Smirke--it's a
liberty. Mean, indeed!"

"O Arthur!" the Curate began to cry with clasped hands, and a scared
face, but Arthur gave another stamp with his foot and began to pull at
the bell. "Don't let's have any more of this. We'll have some coffee, if
you please," he said with a majestic air; and the old butler entering at
the summons, Arthur bade him to serve that refreshment.

John said he had just carried coffee into the drawing-room, where his
uncle was asking for Master Arthur, and the old man gave a glance
of wonder at the three empty claret-bottles. Smirke said he thought
he'd--he'd rather not go into the drawing-room, on which Arthur
haughtily said, "As you please," and called for Mr. Smirke's horse to
be brought round. The poor fellow said he knew the way to the stable and
would get his pony himself, and he went into the hall and sadly put on
his coat and hat.

Pen followed him out uncovered. Helen was still walking up and down the
soft lawn as the sun was setting, and the Curate took off his hat and
bowed by way of farewell, and passed on to the door leading to the
stable court, by which the pair disappeared. Smirke knew the way to the
stable, as he said, well enough. He fumbled at the girths of the saddle,
which Pen fastened for him, and put on the bridle and led the pony into
the yard. The boy was touched by the grief which appeared in the other's
face as he mounted. Pen held out his hand, and Smirke wrung it silently.

"I say, Smirke," he said in an agitated voice, "forgive me if I have
said anything harsh--for you have always been very, very kind to me. But
it can't be, old fellow, it can't be. Be a man. God bless you."

Smirke nodded his head silently, and rode out of the lodge-gate: and Pen
looked after hi