he had finished winking, the door was shut behind him.  Then Ruth said to me in the simplest manner, “You have ridden far today, Cousin Ridd; and have far to ride to get home again.  What will dear Aunt Ridd say, if we send you away without nourishment?  All the keys are in my keeping, and dear grandfather has the finest wine, not to be matched in the west of England, as I have heard good judges say; though I know not wine from cider.  Do you like the wine of Oporto, or the wine of Xeres?”

“I know not one from the other, fair cousin, except by the colour,” I answered:  “but the sound of Oporto is nobler, and richer.  Suppose we try wine of Oporto.”

The good little creature went and fetched a black bottle of an ancient cast, covered with dust and cobwebs.  These I was anxious to shake aside; and indeed I thought that the wine would be better for being roused up a little.  Ruth, however, would not hear a single word to that purport; and seeing that she knew more about it, I left her to manage it.  And the result was very fine indeed, to wit, a sparkling rosy liquor, dancing with little flakes of light, and scented like new violets.  With this I was so pleased and gay, and Ruth so glad to see me gay, that we quite forgot how the time went on; and though my fair cousin would not be persuaded to take a second glass herself, she kept on filling mine so fast that it was never empty, though I did my best to keep it so.

“What is a little drop like this to a man of your size and strength, Cousin Ridd?” she said, with her cheeks just brushed with rose, which made her look very beautiful; “I have heard you say that your head is so thick—­or rather so clear, you ought to say—­that no liquor ever moves it.”

“That is right enough,” I answered; “what a witch you must be, dear Ruth, to have remembered that now!”

“Oh, I remember every word I have ever heard you say, Cousin Ridd; because your voice is so deep, you know, and you talk so little.  Now it is useless to say ‘no’.  These bottles hold almost nothing.  Dear grandfather will not come home, I fear, until long after you are gone.  What will Aunt Ridd think of me, I am sure?  You are all so dreadfully hospitable.  Now not another ‘no,’ Cousin Ridd.  We must have another bottle.”

“Well, must is must,” I answered, with a certain resignation.  “I cannot bear bad manners, dear; and how old are you next birthday?”

“Eighteen, dear John;” said Ruth, coming over with the empty bottle; and I was pleased at her calling me “John,” and had a great mind to kiss her.  However, I thought of my Lorna suddenly, and of the anger I should feel if a man went on with her so; therefore I lay back in my chair, to wait for the other bottle.

“Do you remember how we danced that night?” I asked, while she was opening it; “and how you were afraid of me first, because I looked so tall, dear?”

“Yes, and so very broad, Cousin Ridd.  I thought that you would eat me.  But I have come to know, since then, how very kind and good you are.”