e room again in great perturbation. At length he stopped.

"'Tis an awkward piece of business," he said, "and I had much rather
it had not fallen so; but I suppose it must be done."

Still Manners vouchsafed no reply, and his silence added to the
baron's discomfiture.

For a long time neither of them spoke. The baron wiped the
perspiration from his brow and tried to frame together the words
which proved so troublesome to utter, while Manners sat, ill at ease,
waiting to hear the worst.

"Most young men fall in love," exclaimed the knight at length. He
jerked the words out rather than spoke them, but they were at least
uttered, and feeling that he had broken the ice he heaved a sigh of
relief.

"I did so myself," he innocently rambled on, "more than once." He had
almost said "and once too many," but he paused with the words upon
his lips, and the recollection that Lady Maude might not be far away
decided him to leave the remark unexpressed.

"I have done so, too, once and for ever," exclaimed Manners, mustering
up courage enough to break into the subject at a stroke. He felt
that it must all come out now, and the sooner it was over the better
pleased would he be; therefore he plunged headlong into it, hoping,
perchance, to fire the baron with a little of the same enthusiasm with
which he was himself possessed.

"It has been my good fortune," he continued boldly, "to fall deeply in
love with your daughter, your Dorothy--and she has not spurned me."

"No, Doll is a rare girl, a bonnie girl, and a good one, too. I love
her better than I love myself, and forsooth, young man, we value
ourselves at no sorry figure neither."

"I wonder whoever saw her that did not love her," said the
deeply-smitten swain sententiously.

They were both engaged in conversation now in common sympathy, and the
eyes of the old knight sparkled with joy as he thought of his darling
and her many charms.

"She is the light of my life," he replied. "See, there she goes, with
her bewitching grace," and he caught hold of Manners and drew him into
the recess of the oriel window and pointed out where Dorothy and her
sister were talking together on the green.

"Margaret is to wed Sir Thomas Stanley this autumn, I hear," ventured
the esquire.

"Yes--and Dorothy is to be wedded this winter also," replied the baron
as he heard the partner of his joys pass again outside the door.

"This winter!" echoed Manners in blank dismay. "Dorothy to be wed