“Why, didn’t oi comfort ’e an’ talk to ’e when arl the world was agin’ him? Didn’t oi speak up for ’e on arl ’casions, ah—an’ mak’ love for ’e to ’is sweet-’eart, tu? Wasn’t oi loike a feäther an’ mother arl rolled into one? An’ now ’ere be oi, an’ ’im gone—an’ no cheer!” It was at this moment that, turning into the main road, they beheld a dusty chaise approaching at a smart trot, whereupon, the way being somewhat narrow, Mr. Potter pulled aside to make room; but scarcely had he done so than a cheery voice hailed him, the chaise pulled up, and out from the window came a bewigged head. “Why, Potter—George Potter,” cried a merry voice. “God bless ye, George; ’tis very well met! And my friend Hosea too! How art thou, my Aged Soul? I vow thou’rt looking younger than ever!” “Lord, Sir John!” exclaimed Mr. Potter heartily, “I be main glad to see ye back, sir.” “And I’m back for good, George ... aye, for good of every kind and sort, I hope——” “Why, then, that theer cheer, Sir John!” piped the Aged One. “Wot about my arm-cheer?” “’E means the cheer your honour promised ’im, sir,” explained Mr. Potter. “Chair?” repeated Sir John in laughing puzzlement. “I fear I don’t recall ... but we will talk of this later. For the present, George, I want you to drive over to old Penelope and warn her that she hath visitors on the way to drink tea with her——” “Say two visitors, Mr. Potter,” laughed a second voice, and over Sir John’s shoulder peeped my lady’s lovely face; whereupon Mr. Potter flourished his whip exultantly and, wheeling the likely horse, drove off at such a pace that he was necessitated to hug the small, protesting Aged Soul for safety’s sake. “’Twill give our revered witch due time to don the silken gown, mayhap, my Rose o’ love.” “Aye, though—I think ’tis donned already, sir.” “She expects us, then?” “She doth, John!... And Aunt Lucinda will be there, and Sir Hector ... unless we have outworn their patience.” “But what shall bring them there? How know you this, child?” “’Faith, sir, ’tis because I invited ’em to meet us at Penelope’s cottage——” “Ha, wert so sure we should come back together, my Herminia?” “Why, of course, John dear. Though I little thought we should ha’ kept them so long a-waiting—see, the sun is set already and—nay, sir ... oh, for mercy’s sake, John ... you’ll ha’ my hair all down——” “You’ll look but the lovelier——” “Nay, prithee ... oh, hark, John! Dost hear, dost hear how they welcome thee home at last, beloved?” Upon the air rose a sudden, glad riot of bells lustily rung, a faint, silvery pealing that grew momentarily louder, until the joyous clamour thrilled in the air all about them. “Hark, my John, where they welcome Dering of Dering home at last!” “And his most dear lady!” he answered, drawing her close. “For, O my Herminia, my Rose-child, thou shalt teach him to live to better purpose ... by thee ‘The Wicked Dering’ shall——”