“Jilian, will you forgive me?” “Oh, Richard!” “Aunt Letitia made fools of both of us, Jilian. I have told her to leave my house.” Miss Hardacre hung her head and pressed her hands together. “You know everything, Richard.” “Poor Wilson told me everything, and it was nothing, Jilian.” “I am a shamed and miserable woman.” “Shamed, Jilian? Let me hear any man breathe a word against you.” Miss Hardacre suffered her eyes to quaver up for a moment to Richard’s face. The lad could see tears ready to well up into those pellucid wells of light. “What can I say to you, Richard?” she said. “Oh, I am very miserable.” How could an honorable and generous youth refrain from going down on one knee, pressing the lady’s hand to his lips, and gazing up with enthusiastic homage into her face? The hot words were betwixt Richard’s lips in a moment, and Miss Hardacre was hiding her blushes behind her hand. And then, for the climax, Richard’s lips pressed to Miss Jilian’s, and Sir Peter, who had been listening shrewdly on the landing, standing with admirable dumfoundedness before the innocently opened door. Of course Miss Jilian gave a shy scream, and Richard, red as the lips he had kissed, turned to play the hero before the parental demigod. “Sir Peter Hardacre,” he said, with bashful dignity, “I have come to apologize to your daughter, sir, for the distress I innocently brought upon her the other night. I offer you my apologies, sir, also; I have always honored you, and you have been very kind to me.” The lad drew himself up creditably, squared his shoulders, and looked the baronet straight in the face. “Egad, sir,” quoth Sir Peter, glaring at his daughter and preparing to seem parental, “you appear quick at consoling the ladies. The Hardacre honor, sir—” Mr. Richard became aware suddenly of a warm hand stealing into his. Miss Jilian gave him a look out of her gray eyes and a whispered word that carried a command. She went down on her knees before her father. “What! Bless my soul, what’s this, eh? Stars and garters, Jill, what am I to understand from this?” “Cousin Richard has asked me to be his wife,” said Miss Hardacre, with a divine simper. “What!” “With your consent, Sir Peter,” added Cousin Richard, half grimly. And Sir Peter, noble and forgiving soul, put his pride in his pocket, beamed, and blessed them! XV