“Moreover, men, though you all, each according to his measure and my means, shall meet with liberal justice for your lesser ills, yet we must all remember that Bailiff Acton here had nearly died a felon’s death, through that bad man Jennings and the unlucky crock of gold; in addition, extortion has gone greater lengths with him, than with any other on the property; I find that for the last twenty years, Roger Acton has regularly paid to that monster of oppression who is now dead, a double rent—­four guineas instead of forty shillings.  I desire, as a good master, to make amends for the crimes of my wicked servant; therefore in this bag, Bailiff Acton, is returned to you all the rent you ever paid;” [Roger could not speak for tears;]—­“and your cottage repaired and fitted, with an acre round it, is yours and your children’s, rent-free for ever.”

“Huzzah, huzzah!” roared Ben from the dickey, in a gush of disinterested joy; and then, like an experienced toast-master, he marshalled in due hip, hip, hip order, the shouts of acclamation that rent the air.  In an interval of silence, Sir John added,

“As for you, good-hearted fellow, if you will only mend your speech, I’ll make you one of my keepers; you shall call yourself licensed poacher, if you choose.”

“Blessings on your honour! you’ve made an honest man o’ me.”

“And now, Jonathan Floyd, I have one word to say to you, sir.  I hear you are to marry our Roger’s pretty Grace.”  Jonathan appeared like a sheep in livery.

“You must quit my service.”  Jonathan was quite alarmed.  “Do you suppose, Master Jonathan, that I can house at Hurstley, before a Lady Vincent comes amongst us to keep the gossips quiet, such a charming little wife as that, and all her ruddy children?”

It was Grace’s turn to feel confused, so she “looked like a rose in June,” and blushed all over, as Charles Lamb’s Astraea did, down to the ankle.

“Yes, Jonathan, you and I must part, but we part good friends:  you have been a noble lover:  may you make the girl a good and happy husband!  Jennings has been robbing me and those about me for years:  it is impossible to separate specially my rights from his extortions:  but all, as I have said, shall be satisfied:  meanwhile, his hoards are mine.  I appropriate one half of them for other claimants; the remaining half I give to Grace Floyd as dower.  Don’t be a fool, Jonathan, and blubber; look to your Grace there, she’s fainting—­you can set up landlord for yourself, do you hear?—­for I make yours honestly, as much as Roger found in his now lucky Crock of Gold.”

Poor Roger, quite unmanned, could only wave his hat, and—­the curtain falls amid thunders of applause.

[Footnote A:  It has been stated as a fact, that a certain Lady L——­ S——­, in her last interview with a young man, condemned to death for the brutal murder of his sweetheart, presented him with a white camellia, as a token of eternal peace, which the gallant gentleman actually wore at the gallows in his button-hole.]