y with his blunderbuss,
still muttering his many doubts. But still one cannot drop a love
declaration and pick it up again with the facility of a tailor
resuming his work on a waistcoat. One can't say: "Where was I? How far
had I gone before this miserable interruption came?" In a word I found
mysef stammering and stuttering and wasting moments too precious for
words.

"Lady Mary--" I began. "Lady Mary--I love you, Lady Mary! Lady Mary--"

It was impossible for me to depart from this rigmarole and express the
many things with which my heart was full. It was a maddening
tongue-tie. The moments seemed for me the crisis of my existence, and
yet I could only say, "Lady Mary, I love you!" I know that in many
cases this statement has seemed to be sufficient, but as a matter of
fact I was full of things to say, and it was plain to me that I was
losing everything through the fact that my silly tongue clung to the
roof of my mouth.

I do not know how long the agony endured, but at any rate it was ended
by a thunderous hammering upon the little door in the garden-wall. A
high Irish voice could be heard:

"And if ye be not leaving him out immediately, we will be coming over
the wall if it is ten thousand feet high, ye murdering rogues."

Lady Mary turned deadly pale. "Oh, we are lost," she cried.

I saw at once that the interview was ended. If I remained doughtily I
remained stupidly. I could come back some other day. I clutched Lady
Mary's hand and kissed it. Then I ran for the door in the garden wall.
In a moment I was out, and I heard her frantically bolting the door
behind me.

I confronted Paddy and Jem. Jem had in his hands a brace of pistols
which he was waving determinedly. Paddy was wetting his palms and
resolutely swinging a club. But when they saw me their ferocity gave
way to an outburst of affectionate emotion. I had to assert all my
mastership to keep Paddy from singing. He would sing. Sure, if they
had never heard an Irish song it was time they did.

"Paddy," said I, "my troubles are on me. I wish to be thinking. Remain
quiet."

Presently we reached the little inn, and from there the little Doctor
Chord flew out like a hawk at a sparrow.

"I thought you were dead," he shouted wildly. "I thought you were
dead."

"No," said I, "I am not dead, but I am very thirsty." And, although
they were murmuring this thing and that thing, I would have no word
with them until I was led to the parlour of the inn and g