Of course I fell, or fancied I fell, in love with her. To her mother's extreme distress, she gave me every encouragement, partly for fun, partly to annoy Colonel Ibbetson, whom she had apparently grown to hate. And, indeed, from the way he spoke of her to me (this trainer of English gentlemen), he well deserved that she should hate him. He never had the slightest intention of marrying her--that is certain; and yet he had made her the talk of the place. And here I may state that Ibbetson was one of those singular men who go through life afflicted with the mania that they are fatally irresistible to women. He was never weary of pursuing them--not through any special love of gallantry for its own sake, I believe, but from the mere wish to appear as a Don Giovanni in the eyes of others. Nothing made him happier than to be seen whispering mysteriously in corners with the prettiest woman in the room. He did not seem to perceive that for one woman silly or vain or vulgar enough to be flattered by his idiotic persecution, a dozen would loathe the very sight of him, and show it plainly enough. This vanity had increased with years and assumed a very dangerous form. He became indiscreet, and, more disastrous still, he told lies! The very dead--the honored and irreproachable dead--were not even safe in their graves. It was his revenge for unforgotten slights. He who kisses and tells, he who tells even though he has not kissed--what can be said for him, what should be done to him? Ibbetson one day expiated this miserable craze with his life, and the man who took it--more by accident than design, it is true--has not yet found it in his heart to feel either compunction or regret. * * * * * So there was a great row between Ibbetson and myself. He d----d and confounded and abused me in every way, and my father before me, and finally struck me; and I had sufficient self-command not to strike him back, but left him then and there with as much dignity as I could muster. Thus unsuccessfully ended my brief experience of English country life--a little hunting and shooting and fishing, a little dancing and flirting; just enough of each to show me I was unfit for all. A bitter-sweet remembrance, full of humiliation, but not altogether without charm. There was the beauty of sea and open sky and changing country weather; and the beauty of Mrs. Deane, who made a fool of me to revenge herself on Colonel Ibbetson for trying to make a fool of her, whereby he became the laughing-stock of the neighborhood for at least nine days. And I revenged myself on both--heroically, as I thought; though where the heroism comes in, and where the revenge, does not appear quite patent. For I ran away to London, and enlisted in her Majesty's Household Cavalry, where I remained a twelvemonth, and was happy enough, and learned a great deal more good than harm. * * * * *