as readily as his mistress, and, fearful of disturbing sleepers or watchers, approached the house like a thief.  To gain a sight of Dorothy’s window he had to pass that of the parlour, and then the porch, which he did on the grass, that his steps might be noiseless.  But here the dog started from his heel, and bounded into the porch, leading after him the eyes of Richard, who thereupon saw what would have else remained undiscovered—­two figures, namely, standing in its deep shadow.  Judging it his part, as a friend of the family, to see who, at so late an hour, and so near the house, seemed thus to avoid discovery, Richard drew nearer, and the next moment saw that the door was open behind them, and that they were Dorothy and a young man.

‘The gates will be shut,’ said Dorothy.

‘It is no matter; old Eccles will open to me at any hour,’ was the answer.

‘Still it were well you went without delay,’ said Dorothy; and her voice trembled a little, for she had caught sight of Richard.

Now not only are anger and stupidity near of kin, but when a man whose mental movements are naturally deliberate, is suddenly spurred, he is in great danger of acting like a fool, and Richard did act like a fool.  He strode up to the entrance of the porch, and said,

‘Do you not hear the lady, sir?  She tells you to go.’

A voice as cool and self-possessed as the other was hasty and perturbed, replied,

’I am much in the wrong, sir, if the lady do not turn the command upon yourself.  Until you have obeyed it, she may perhaps see reason for withdrawing it in respect of me.’

Richard stepped into the porch, but Dorothy glided between them, and gently pushed him out.

‘Richard Heywood!’ she said.

‘Whew!’ interjected the stranger, softly.

‘You can claim no right,’ she went on, ’to be here at this hour.  Pray go; you will disturb my mother.’

‘Who is this man, then, whose right seems acknowledged?’ asked Richard, in ill-suppressed fury.

’When you address me like a gentleman, such as I used to believe you—­’

’May I presume to ask when you ceased to regard me as a gentleman, mistress Dorothy?’

’As soon as I found that you had learned to despise law and religion,’ answered the girl.  ’Such a one will hardly succeed in acting the part of a gentleman, even had he the blood of the Somersets in his veins.’

‘I thank you, mistress Dorothy,’ said the stranger, ’and will profit by the plain hint.  Once more tell me to go, and I will obey.’

‘He must go first,’ returned Dorothy.

Richard had been standing as if stunned, but now with an effort recovered himself.

‘I will wait for you,’ he said, and turned away.

‘For whom, sir?’ asked Dorothy, indignantly.

‘You have refused me the gentleman’s name,’ answered Richard:  ’perhaps I may have the good fortune to persuade himself to be more obliging.’