“No?” said Sybilla, “not even ‘down to Maine?’”

“No, by George! and we raise the smartest kind of girls there.  Now, Miss Silver, supposing we go partners in this here concern, would you be willing to go partners with a fellow for life?  I never thought to marry an English woman, but I’ll marry you to-morrow, if you’ll have me.  What d’ye say?  Is it a go?”

“You don’t mean it, Mr. Parmalee?” as soon as she could speak.

“I do!” said Mr. Parmalee, with emphasis.  “Laugh, if you like.  It’s kind of sudden, I suppose, but I’ve had a hankering after you this some time.  You’re a right smart kind of girl, and jest my style, and I like you tip-top.  The way you can roll up them black eyes of yours at a fellow is a caution to rattlesnakes.  Say, is it a go?”

Sybilla turned away.  Her dark cheeks reddened.  There was a moment’s hesitation, then she turned back and extended her hand.

“You are not very romantic, Mr. Parmalee.  You don’t ask me for my love, or any of that sentimental nonsense,” with a laugh.  “And you really mean it—­you really mean to make Lady Kingsland’s poor companion your wife?”

“Never meant anything more in my life.  It is a go, then?”

“I will marry you, Mr. Parmalee, if you desire it.”

“And you won’t go back on a fellow?” asked Mr. Parmalee, suspiciously.  “You’re not fooling me just to get at this secret, are you?”

Sybilla drew away her hand with an offended air.

“Think better of me, Mr. Parmalee!  I may be shrewd enough to guess at your secret without being base enough to tell a deliberate lie to know it.  I could find it out by easier means.”

“I don’t know about that,” said the artist, coolly.  “It ain’t likely Lady Kingsland would tell you, and you couldn’t get it out of me, you know, if you was twice as clever, unless I chose.  But I want you to help me.  A man always gets along better in these little underhand matters when he’s got a woman going partners with him.  I want to see my lady.  I want to send her a note all unbeknown to the baronet.”

“I’ll deliver it,” said Sybilla, “and if she chooses to see you, I will manage that Sir Everard will not intrude.”

“She’ll see me fast enough.  I thought she’d want to see me herself before this, but it appears she’s inclined to hold out; so I’ll drop her a hint in writing.  If the mountain won’t come to what’s-his-name—­you know what I mean, Miss Silver.  I suppose I may call you Sybilla now?”

“Oh, undoubtedly, Mr. Parmalee!  But for the present don’t you think—­just to keep people’s tongues quiet, you know—­had we not better keep this little private compact to ourselves?  I don’t want the gossiping servants of the house to gossip in the kitchen about you and me.”

“Just as you please.  I don’t care a darn for their gossiping, though.  And now about that little note.  I want to see my lady before I explain things to you, you know.”