uting his modicum of entertainment, no doubt stimulated
thereto by the thought of my near departure, and surely, when a
man may give pleasure by his goings as well as by his comings, he
is in a position to be envied. I sang Jacobite songs that evening
with an expression that would have carried conviction to the Duke
of Cumberland himself, and when I took my departure with the Vicomte
after midnight, I left a veritable hot-bed of sedition behind.

My companion, though outwardly civil, took my little pleasantries
with so ill a grace that I was in a measure prepared for his words
at our parting before the coach-office.

"Chevalier, you are a man of many charming parts; I trust you will
long be spared to exercise them in quarters where they may fail to
give offence to any one."

"My dear Vicomte," I replied, "Providence has bestowed on me only
my poor talents, but has not granted me the power to provide
appreciation in others. Still, if you should feel at any time that
I am answerable for your personal short-comings, do not, I pray,
let any false delicacy stand in your way. I should be complimented
in sustaining such an argument." At which he only bowed in his
stateliest manner, and wishing me a safe journey, bent his steps
towards St. James's Street.

I must confess such a quarrel would have been infinitely to my
taste, but unfortunately there would have been no satisfaction to
me, even had I pushed it to a successful issue. My way towards
Margaret was stopped by a much more serious obstacle than any man
who ever drew sword. Did the Vicomte but know this, possibly my
connection with Lady Jane might not have appeared to him so radical
a reason for keeping the peace between us. With these thoughts and
others germane to them I whiled away the time until the coach was
ready, and at the dead hour of two in the morning we rolled out of
London on our way to Huntingdon, where we arrived at eight the
following evening.

I put up at the Bell, which was comfortable enough, and made shift
to employ my time through the long week before me in some manner
that would reasonably account for my stay in a dull country town
which offered no attractions to a man of fashion.

At length my letters reached me, and my gorge rose at the address:

_Mr. Simpkin,_
_Lying at the Bell Inn,_
_Huntingdon._

Now it had never cost me a second thought to travel as a pedlar
when making my escape from Scotland, but this wishy-washy nonen