“I have passed the last quarter of a century of my life,” pursued Miss Blythe, “in an intimate if humble capacity in the service of a family of the loftiest nobility. I am not unacquainted with the airs and graces of the higher powers, but between your lordship and myself, at our respective ages, I cannot permit them to be introduced.” His lordship had a fit of coughing which lasted him two or three minutes, and brought the tears to his eyes. Most people might have thought that the cough bore a suspicious resemblance to laughter, but no such idea occurred to Miss Blythe. “You are quite right, Miss Blythe,” said the old nobleman, when he could trust himself to speak. He was twitching and twinkling with suppressed mirth, but he contained himself heroically. “I beg your pardon, and I promise that I will not again transgress in that manner. But really, that--that--fit of coughing has quite exhausted me for the moment. May I beg your permission to sit down?” “Certainly, my lord,” replied the little old lady, and in a bird-like fashion fluttered to the gate. It was not until she had reached the porch of the cottage that she became aware of the fact that the earl was following her. “Your lordship's pardon,” she said then; “I will bring your lordship a chair into the garden. I am alone,” she added, more prim and starched than ever, “and I have my reputation to consider.” Miss Blythe entered the cottage and returned with a chair, which she planted on the gravelled pathway. The old nobleman sat down and took snuff, twitching and twinkling in humorous enjoyment. “How long is it since you left us?” he asked. “It looks as if it were only yesterday.” “I have been absent from Heydon Hay for more than a quarter of a century,” the little old lady answered. “Ah!” said he, and for a full minute sat staring before him rather forlornly. He recovered himself with a slight shake and resumed the talk. “You maintain your reputation for cruelty, Miss Blythe?” “For cruelty, my lord?” returned Miss Blythe, with a transparent pretence of not understanding him. “Breaking hearts,” said his lordship, “eh? I was elderly before you went away, you know, but I remember a disturbance--a disturbance.” He rapped with the knuckles of his left hand on his white kerseymere waistcoat. Miss Blythe tightened her lips and regarded him with an uncompromising air. “Differences of sex, alone, my lord,” she said, with decision, “should preclude a continuance of this conversation.” “Should they?” asked the old nobleman. “Do you really think so? I forget. I am a monument of old age, and I forget, but I fancy I used to think otherwise. You were the beauty of the place, you know. Is that a forbidden topic also?”