“There never was no other,” saith she. “The whole tale was devised by my good friends, thinking to do I don’t know what good turn to me. Nay, Ned! Cousin! I do entreat you--sir! without so much as leave asked or given----” For I had not been able to refrain from embracing her, when it come to me all at once that these ladies, whose words had so sorely perturbed me, had been pointing all the time at myself, when they signified my cousin’s preoccupation in behalf of a certain gentleman, designing at the same time to punish my faithlessness and to increase my ardour, though this, indeed, wan’t necessary. But upon Dorothy’s remonstrance I did perceive my hastiness (though I can’t say that I repented on’t), and begged her pardon very humbly, when she relenting gave to me her hand for to kiss. And thereafter my love and I stood long at that window in the gallery, where we had stood so long before, and talked of many things. And Dorothy told me that on my return she had perceived that my ancient love for her was dead, and did therefore determine to hide and conceal her own, lest I might turn to her again out of pity; but whether she would have succeeded in this design, or would later have penetrated into my true sentiments, can’t now be known, since her friends were advised to practise that strange piece of artifice which had brought us happily together at last. Now at supper-time, going together into the parlour, we found Mrs Skipwith fallen into a grievous trouble of mind touching us, in that she had missed us both, and there was none could tell her where we were, nor did she, knowing the posture of affairs between us, once suppose us to be together, which, had she thought on’t, had set her mind to rest. And she springing up from her chair to greet us with great joy, I did lead Dorothy to her. “Mrs Dorothy desires to present her servant to you, madam,” says I. “Her servant!” cried the old lady, looking from the one of us to the other in no small bewilderment, “but who is he? I had understood that she loved you, sir.” “Oh, madam, pray don’t betray my secrets,” says Dorothy in her saucy way; “han’t I leave to change my mind?” “Madam,” says I, “I’ll hope Mrs Dorothy han’t changed her mind since she gave you that assurance, for she hath done me the honour to accept of me as her servant for the space of my whole life.”