“I perceive you ha’ heard something of the matter, Hector.” “I hae that ... and o’ the lass, forbye! O John, John, is she wi’ ye yet?” “Indeed, Hector, safe and sound!” “O man, are ye rin clean daft?” “Never saner, Hector.” “A common, country serving-wench, puir lass.... O man John!” “Nay, Hector, the most uncommon serving-wench that ever served since serving was or wenches were!” “Hoot-toot—dinna palter wi’ worrds, John! Think o’ y’r reputation!” “Nay, faith,” sighed Sir John; “’tis so devilish blown upon, so warped and weatherbeaten, that I had fain forget it. And as for my Rose——” “Oh, shame, John, for shame!” exclaimed Sir Hector, falling into his precise English. “I had hoped you had left such wickedness behind in Paris with your scandalous marquises and such.” “Why, there it is, Hector; my Rose is such vast and welcome change to your fine ladies, for instead o’ languishing, sinking or swooning with mock-modesty as your great lady should, she talks to me of—her grandmother! She is immaculate, Hector, Innocence incarnate—and I find her vastly edifying. And, egad, I’ve kissed her but once, and that upon the brow—in all these miles! Come—how d’ye say to that?” “Umph-humph!” exclaimed Sir Hector. “Pray,” questioned Sir John, “pray what might you mean exactly, Hector?” “That I’m no minded tae sit here choked wi’ dust hearkenin’ tae sermons on ye’ ain virtues.... An’ high tide at twa o’clock! Push on, man, push on, and ye s’all be in Sussex to-morrow’s morn.” “In heaven’s name, how?” “Whisht, lad! I happen to know of a boat—juist a wee bit fishin’-boat, y’ ken—as sails the nicht.” “’Tis marvellous what you ‘happen’ to know. Hector!” “Tush, man! Are ye for Sussex an’ Cuckmere Haven to-morrow morn?” “With all my heart.” “Then ‘hurry’s’ the word, John.” CHAPTER IX DESCRIBES THE ADVENTURES OF THE _TRUE BELIEVER_ One o’clock was striking as they rumbled into the ancient town of Dieppe and pulled up before the posting-inn. Here Sir John, having paid and feed his driver, was for ordering supper, but Sir Hector would have none of it. “Come awa’, Johnnie,” he insisted, “an’ if ye’re hungry, I’ll find ye a red herring—mebbe a couple. Come awa’!” “A herring? How say you, Rose child?” questioned Sir John, but my lady not troubling to answer, he tucked her hand within his arm and bade Sir Hector lead on. “Ha—but the girl, John—ye’ll no’ be for draggin’ the puir lassie awa’ wi’ ye tae sea—at midnight?” “No, indeed, Hector; if she will not walk I must carry her. Howbeit, she comes to share my herring!” “O John!” sighed Sir Hector; “O Johnnie man, I’m fair amazed at ye!” And shaking gloomy head he turned and strode on before.