“Excuse me,” I said, bowing deeply, “but such heroic devotion cannot be sufficiently appreciated and admired. In Lisbeth’s name I beg to thank you; nevertheless

“Mr. Brent, I believe?” she said in a tone of faint surprise, as though noticing my presence for the first time.

“At your service, madam!” I answered with another bow.

“Then I must ask you to convey my ward back to Fane Court immediately; she and the children will accompany me to London at once.”

“My dear Lady Warburton,” I said, fronting the lorgnettes with really admirable fortitude, “it grieves me to deny you this request, but believe me, it is impossible!”

“Impossible!” she repeated.

“Quite!” I answered. “You here behold the good ship Joyful Hope, bound for the ‘Land of Heart’s Delight,’ and we aboard are all determined on our course.”

“‘An’ the wind blows fair, an’ our helm’s a-lee, so it’s heave, my mariners, all - O!’ ” cried the Imp in his nautical voice.

“Dear me!” ejaculated Lady Warburton, staring. “Elizabeth, be so obliging as to tell me what it all means. Why have you dragged these children from their beds to come philandering upon a horrid river at such an hour?”

“Excuse me, Aunt, but she didn’t drag us,” protested the Imp, bowing exactly as I had done a moment before.

“Oh, no, we came,” nodded Dorothy.

“An’ we’ve been getting married, you know,” said the Imp.

“And it was all very, very beautiful,” added Dorothy; “even Louise enjoyed it ever so much!” and she kissed the fluffy kitten.

“Married!” cried Lady Warburton in a tone of horror; “married!”

“They would do it, you know,” sighed the Imp.

“And quite right, too,” said Dorothy; “everybody always marries somebody, some time; it’s very fashionable at present. Mamma did and so shall I when I grow up, I suppose.”

“Goodness gracious, child!” exclaimed Lady Warburton.

“I s’pose you’re angry ‘bout it, Aunt,” pursued the Imp. “I was at first - just a weeny bit; but you see Uncle Dick has a wonderful house with swords an’ armour, but empty, an’ he wanted to keep somebody in it to see that everything was nice, I s’pose, an’ sing, you know, an’ take care of his life. Auntie Lisbeth can sing, an’ she wanted to go, so I forgave them.”

“Oh, indeed, Reginald?” said Lady Warburton in a rather queer voice, and I saw the corners of her high, thin nose quiver strangely.

“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’ am,” said Peter at this moment, touching his cap, “I don’t know much about boats, my line bein’ ‘osses, but I do think as this ‘ere boat is a-goin’ to sink.”

“Then row for the shore instantly,” said Lady Warburton firmly, “and should I never reach it alive” - here she brought her lorgnette to bear on Lisbeth - “I say if I do meet a watery grave this day, my epitaph shall be, ‘Drowned by the Ingratitude of a Niece.’

However, this gloomy tragedy being happily averted, and Lady Warburton safely landed, I, at a nod from Lisbeth, rowed to the bank likewise and we all disembarked together.

Now, as kind Fortune would have it, and Fortune was very kind that morning, the place where we stood was within a stone’s throw of The Three Jolly Anglers, and wafted to us on the warm, still air there came a wondrous fragrance, far sweeter and more alluring than the breath of roses or honeysuckle - the delightful aroma of frying bacon.

Lady Warburton faced us, her parasol tucked beneath her arm, looking very much like a military officer on parade.

“Dorothy and Reginald,” she said in a short, sharp voice of command, “bid good-bye to your Auntie Lisbeth and accompany me home at once.”

“No, no,” cried Lisbeth, with hands stretched out appealingly, “you will not leave us like this, Aunt - for the sake of the love I shall always bear you, and - and - “

“Elizabeth, I cared for you from your babyhood up. Ingratitude is my return. I watched you grow from child to woman. I planned out a future for you; you broke those plans. I might tell you that I am a lonely, disappointed old woman, who loved you much more than she thought, but I won’t!”

“Dear, dear Aunt Agatha, did you love me so much, and I never guessed; you wouldn’t let me, you see. Ah! do not think me ungrateful, but when a woman comes to marry she must choose for herself as I have done; and I am happy, dear, and proud of my choice - proud to have won the true love of a true man; only do not think I am ungrateful. And if this must be good-bye, do not let us part like this - for my sake and your sake and the sake of my - husband.”

Lady Warburton had turned away, and there ensued a somewhat embarrassing pause.

“Elizabeth,” she said suddenly, “if I don’t mistake, somebody is frying bacon somewhere, and I’m ravenously hungry.”

“So am I,” cried the Imp.

“And so am I,” Dorothy chimed in.

“Then suppose we have breakfast,” I suggested, and in almost less time than it takes to tell I was leading the way across the green with Lady Warburton on my arm - actually leaning on my arm. It all happened so quickly that Heaven and Lisbeth alone know how she got there.

And now who so surprised to see us as honest Amos Baggett, ushering us with many bows and smiles into the Sanded Parlour, where breakfast was soon ready; and who so quick and dexterous in attending to our wants as the rosy-cheeked chambermaid?

And what a breakfast that was! Never had the antique andirons on the hearth, the pewter plates and dishes upon the walls, the brass-bound blunderbuss above the mantel seemed so bright and polished before, and surely never had they gleamed upon a merrier company. To be sure, the Imp’s remarks were somewhat few and far between, but that was simply on account of the blackberry jam.

“I suppose you are both ridiculously happy,” said Lady Warburton, eyeing us over her coffee cup.

“Most absurdly!” answered Lisbeth, blushing all in a moment.

“Preposterously!” I nodded.

“Of course!” said Lady Warburton, and setting down her cup, she sighed, while I wondered what memories her narrow life could hold.

“Uncle Dick,” said the Imp suddenly, “do you s’pose Scarlet Sam ever ate blackberry jam?”

“Undoubtedly, my Imp, when he could get it.” This appeared to greatly relieve his mind; for he took another helping.

But all things must have an end, alas!-even such a breakfast as this, and presently we were out in the sunshine again, standing beneath the weather-beaten sign whereon three faded fishermen fished with faded rods in a faded stream; while away down the road we could see Peter already approaching with the carriage.

“And now I suppose you are going?” said Lady Warburton.

“There is a train at half-past ten,” I answered.

“An’ we are going, too !” said Dorothy.

“Yes, we’re quite ready, Uncle Dick,” cried the Imp, thrusting his pistols into his belt.

“But you wouldn’t leave me all alone, would you, children?” asked Lady Warburton, and there was a certain wistfulness in her sharp face that seemed new to it.

“‘Course not,” sighed the Imp, “only - “

“We must stay and take care of her, Reginald,” nodded Dorothy decisively.

“Yes, I’ll take care of you, Aunt, with lance, battle-axe, an’ sword, by day an’ night,” said the Imp, “only - I should have liked to see Uncle Dick’s wonderful house, with the real swords an’ armour, in the Land of Heart’s Delight - some day, you know.”

“And so you shall,” cried Lady Warburton, and she actually stooped to kiss him, and then Dorothy, rather ‘pecky’ kisses, perhaps, but very genuine kisses notwithstanding.

“Richard,” she said, giving me her hand, “we shall come down to your wonderful house - all three of us next week, so be prepared - now be off - both of you.”

“Then you forgive me, Aunt?” asked Lisbeth, hesitating.

“Well, I don’t quite know yet, Lisbeth; but, my dear, I’ll tell you something I have never mentioned to a living soul but you; if I had acted forty years ago as you did to-day, I should have been a very different creature to the cross-grained old woman you think me. There - there’s a kiss, but as for forgiving you - that is quite another matter; I must have time to think it all over. Good-bye, my dear; and, Richard, fill her life with happiness, to make up for mine, if you can. Children, bid good-bye to your Auntie - and Uncle Dick!”

“You won’t forget the sword with the ‘deadly point,’ will you, Uncle Dick?”

“I won’t forget, my Imp!” Hereupon he tried to smile, but his trembling lips refused, and snatching his band from mine he turned away; as for Dorothy, she was sobbing into the fur of the fluffy kitten.

Then I helped Lisbeth aboard The Joyful Hope, loving her the more for the tears that gleamed beneath her long lashes, and ‘casting loose,’ we glided out into the stream.

There they stood, the two children, with the white-haired figure between them, Dorothy holding up the round-eyed “Louise” for a parting glimpse, and the Imp flourishing his cutlass, until a bend of the river hid them from view.

So Lisbeth and I sailed on together through the golden morning to “The Land of Heart’s Delight.”