“It’ll be a great convenience to me if you’d come about that time,” said the earl, “and as you’re a bachelor perhaps you won’t mind it.  You’ll come on Thursday at seven, will you?  Take care of yourself.  It’s as dark as pitch.  John, go and open the first gates for Dr Crofts.”  And then the earl took himself off to bed.

Crofts, as he rode home, could not keep his mind from thinking of the two girls at Allington.  “He’ll not marry her unless old Dale gives her something.”  Had it come to that with the world, that a man must be bribed into keeping his engagement with a lady?  Was there no romance left among mankind,—­no feeling of chivalry?  “He’s got another string to his bow at Courcy Castle,” said the earl; and his lordship seemed to be in no degree shocked as he said it.  It was in this tone that men spoke of women nowadays, and yet he himself had felt such awe of the girl he loved, and such a fear lest he might injure her in her worldly position, that he had not dared to tell her that he loved her.

CHAPTER XXI

John Eames Encounters Two Adventures, and Displays Great Courage in Both

Lily thought that her lover’s letter was all that it should be.  She was not quite aware what might be the course of post between Courcy and Allington, and had not, therefore, felt very grievously disappointed when the letter did not come on the very first day.  She had, however, in the course of the morning, walked down to the post-office, in order that she might be sure that it was not remaining there.

“Why, miss, they all be delivered; you know that,” said Mrs Crump, the post-mistress.

“But one might be left behind, I thought.”

“John Postman went up to the house this very day, with a newspaper for your mamma.  I can’t make letters for people if folks don’t write them.”

“But they are left behind sometimes, Mrs Crump.  He wouldn’t come up with one letter if he’d got nothing else for anybody in the street.”

“Indeed but he would then.  I wouldn’t let him leave a letter here no how, nor yet a paper.  It’s no good you’re coming down here for letters, Miss Lily.  If he don’t write to you, I can’t make him do it.”  And so poor Lily went home discomforted.

But the letter came on the next morning, and all was right.  According to her judgment it lacked nothing, either in fulness or in affection.  When he told her how he had planned his early departure in order that he might avoid the pain of parting with her on the last moment, she smiled and pressed the paper, and rejoiced inwardly that she had got the better of him as to that manoeuvre.  And then she kissed the words which told her that he had been glad to have her with him at the last moment.  When he declared that he had been happier at Allington than he was at Courcy, she believed him thoroughly, and rejoiced that it should be so.  And when he accused