At this moment he caught sight of a stout figure, far below, labouring up the winding lane; it was Miss Morven’s maid, Norris. He recognised her bright blue gown. Oh, the precious moments were numbered, and it was now--or never! “What do you say?” he demanded, coming to a standstill. “But what can I say?” she rejoined, lifting her startled eyes to his. “I don’t know anything about you. You cannot even tell me your name.” (Naturally she did not mention that it was already known to her.) “It’s all rather bewildering, isn’t it?” “Yes, it’s simply crazy,” he admitted; “here am I, your aunts’ chauffeur, receiving weekly wages, living like a working man, telling you, with the most audacious and astounding impertinence, that I’ve been in love with you for months. You know that I’m of your own class, but who I am, or where I come from, I refuse to disclose. No wonder you feel dazed.” They were now within sight of the village and of Norris. “Look here, Miss Morven,” he continued, and his voice was a little hoarse, “I see your maid coming, and my priceless, precious time is running out. Let me ask you one question; supposing I were not Owen, the chauffeur, but had fair prospects, good friends, and say a thousand a year to start with--would you--marry me?” Aurea knew perfectly well that she would marry him if he had only a few hundreds a year, no prospects, and no friends; but she took refuge in that nice, useful, and evasive word “Perhaps.” “Perhaps”--he stooped and kissed her gloved hand--“perhaps--will keep me going! Even if I don’t see you, I shall _live_ on that one little word for the next eighteen months. I don’t suppose I shall have another opportunity of speaking to you.” Here he was interrupted by Norris, who suddenly appeared round a bend in the lane, puffing like a grampus, her hat on the back of her head, and her face crimson from exertion. “Oh, Miss Aurea!” she screamed, as she halted and held her fat sides, “such a cruel fright as you give me--and the three men gone by the road looking to find your corpse! and I ran this way, after your horse come home all loose and wild. Are you hurt?” “No; he only broke away when I was opening a gate, and I had to walk,” replied the young lady with wonderful composure. Norris threw a sharp glance at the chauffeur. “And couldn’t _he_ have helped you? What was he about?” “I’m afraid, like yourself, I was looking for Miss Morven,” he replied. Norris turned from him with a sniff of disparagement, and, addressing herself to her mistress, said-- “And where’s the Rector?” “He is dining with Mr. Harnett.” “Tut, tut, tut! And he will stay half the night talking books, and there are a brace of grouse for dinner--kept to the hour--and all he will get at Harnett’s will be green vegetables, like a goat--he’s a sexagenarian!”