"And now it is high time for Miss Baynard to make _her_ toilet," she remarked; "but such an awkward young woman is she that it may be as well I should lend her a helping hand." Dare, who recognized the futility of any further opposition, yielded himself into her hands and did exactly as she bade him. Although Nell was tall, he was three inches taller than she, but the riding skirt admitted of ample allowance for the difference. When, however, it came to the bodice, that garment cracked ominously, and the hooks and eyes wholly refused to come together. But, happily, the gray cloak was ample enough to hide all shortcomings. [Illustration: "Your coat and vest sir--or your life."] Lastly, the elaborate headdress--hat, veil, and curls--had to be adjusted. This was a matter of some nicety, but presently it was accomplished to Miss Baynard's satisfaction. Then, stepping back a pace, she took a general survey of her handiwork. "Yes, I think you'll do," she said, "although you do look so preternaturally tall. On no account must you either speak or cough, and do for goodness' sake try to mitigate that seven-league stride of yours. I suppose that, try as you might, you couldn't mince or bridle a little, as all young ladies are supposed to do?" Although she spoke with such seeming levity, her nerves were all a-tingle with mingled apprehension and excitement. She felt as if she were strapped down on the operating table, and waiting for the coming of the surgeon with his terrible knife. The only remark made by Dare during the process of his transformation was when Nell was on the point of crowning him with the hat and curls. With a caressing touch on one of the tresses, he said: "Oh, my dear one, to think you should have done this for me! What a sacrifice! Can I ever forgive you?" "Of course you can," she answered lightly. "Am I not making you a present of the rubbish, to do what you like with? Some lovers think themselves well off if they can secure a tiny tress of their mistress' hair, but so great is _my_ generosity that I freely present you with enough to stuff a sofa cushion." He caught her in his arms and kissed her passionately. But now was heard a faint sound as of the unlocking and opening of a door in the distance, and then, heralded by a cough, the noise of approaching footsteps on the flagged floor of the corridor. Instead of a bare thirty minutes, our young people had been nearly an hour together. Whether the guineas and the brandy were in any way concerned with such a liberal measurement of time is more than one would undertake to decide. "The time to part has come," said Nell in a hurried whisper. "Listen. My man John Dyce is waiting outside, in charge of my mare. He may be trusted implicitly. He has had his instructions, and will ask no questions. The future I leave wholly in your hands." More was impossible. The turnkey was at the door. After a preliminary rap on it, he called out, "Time's up long since, mum. Are you ready?"