Colonel Clifford came
on the green, and then made Walter as perfect a courtesy as ever graced a
minuet at the court of Louis le Grand.

Walter took off his hat to her with chivalric grace and respect. Colonel
Clifford drew up in a stiff military attitude, which flavored rather of
the parade or the field of battle than the court either of the great
monarch or of little Cupid.

CHAPTER XV.

THE SECRET IN DANGER.

"Hum!" said the Colonel, dryly; "a petticoat!"

"Et cetera," suggested Walter, meekly; and we think he was right, for a
petticoat has never in our day been the only garment worn by females,
nor even the most characteristic: fishermen wear petticoats, and don't
wear bonnets.

"Who is she, sir?" asked the grim Colonel.

"Your niece, father," said Walter, mellifluously, "and the most beautiful
girl in Derbyshire."

The Colonel snorted, but didn't condescend to go into the question
of beauty.

"Why did my niece retire at sight of me?" was his insidious inquiry.

"Well," said Walter, meekly, "the truth is, some mischief-making fool has
been telling her that you have lost all natural affection for your dead
sister's child."

The stout Colonel staggered for a moment, snorted, and turned it off.
"You and she are very often together, it seems."

"All the better for me," said Walter, stoutly.

"And all the worse for me," retorted the Colonel. And as men gravitate
toward their leading grievance, he went off at a tangent, "What do you
think my feelings must be, to see my son, my only son, spooning the
daughter of my only enemy; of a knave who got on my land on pretense of
farming it, but instead of that he burrowed under the soil like a mole,
sir; and now the place is defiled with coal dust, the roads are black,
the sheep are black, the daisies and buttercups are turning black.
There's a smut on your nose, Walter. I forbid you to spoon his daughter,
upon pain of a father's curse. My real niece, Julia, is a lady and an
heiress, and the beauty of the county. She is the girl for you."

"And how about the seventh commandment?" inquired Walter, putting his
hands in his pockets.

"Oh," said the Colonel, indifferently, "you must mind your eye, like
other husbands. But in our walk of life it's the man's fault if the woman
falls out of the ranks."

"That's not what I mean," said Walter.

"What do you mean, then, if you mean anything at all?"

"I mean this, father. She marries Percy Fitzroy in three wee