The baronet rose up, in well-feigned agitation, and exclaimed, “Unfortunate girl! whoever you may be, you know not the serious mischief and unhappiness that your imposture was nearly entailing upon me.”

“But did you not say that you bore an illegitimate child to this gentleman?” asked the squire.

“Oh, la! no, sir; you know I denied that; I never bore an illegitimate child; I bore a love-child, but not to him; and there is no harm in that, sure.”

“Well, she certainly has exculpated you, Sir Robert.”

“Gentlemen, will you excuse and pardon me? and will you promise not to send me to jail?”

“Go about your business,” said Sir Robert, “you unfortunate girl, and be guilty of no such impostures in future.  Your conduct has nearly been the means of putting enmity between two families of rank; or rather of alienating one of them from the confidence and good-will of the other.  Go.”

She then courtesied to each, shedding, at the same time, what seemed to be bitter tears of remorse—­and took her departure, each of them looking after her, and then at the other, with surprise and wonder.

“Now, Mr. Folliard,” said Sir Robert solemnly, “I have one question to ask you, and it is this:  could I possibly, or by any earthly natural means, have been apprised of the honor of your visit to me this day?  I ask you in a serious—­yes, and in a solemn spirit; because the happiness of my future life depends on your reply.”

“Why, no,” replied the credulous squire, “hang it, no, man—­no, Sir Robert; I’ll do you that justice; I never mentioned my intention of coming to call you out, to any individual but one, and that on my way hither; he was unwell, too, after a hard night’s drinking; but he said he would shake himself up, and be ready to attend me as soon as the place of meeting should be settled on.  In point of fact, I did not intend to see you to-day, but to send him with the message; but, as I said, he was knocked up for a time, and you know my natural impatience.  No, certainly not, it was in every sense impossible that you could have expected me:  yes, if the devil was in it, I will do you that justice.”

“Well, I have another question to ask, my dear friend, equally important with, if not more so than, the other.  Do you hold me free from all blame in what has happened through the imposture of that wretched girl?”

“Why, after what has occurred just now, I certainly must, Sir Robert.  As you laid no anticipation of my visit, you certainly could not, nor had you time to get up a scene.”

“Well, now, Mr. Folliard, you have taken a load off my heart; and I will candidly confess to you that I have had my frailties like other men, sown my wild oats like other men; but, unlike those who are not ashamed to boast of such exploits, I did not think it necessary to trumpet my own feelings.  I do not say, my dear friend, that I have always been a saint.”