“Why, deuce take it, has he not decided for himself? What can I do but hand him over? Were I to let him go free, he would probably be caught, nevertheless: in the end I should be in trouble for having harboured him.” “You’ll pardon me, of course, for introducing the subject. We’ve all avoided it, as you set the example of doing. But to-day Lady Strange was hoping that you could find it in your heart to let the young fellow go.” “Oh, I could find it in my heart; but should I find it to my interest? Several possibilities have occurred to me, but they all seem attended by risk or inconvenience. The safest and easiest course is clearly to observe both the law and our agreement. The man Filson is still in the village. He seems to have an instinct that his prey is in the neighbourhood—nay, as he looked at me yesterday at church, I could almost imagine he suspected something. He has a clue, perhaps. He told Caleb he might be hereabouts for another fortnight. So you see—well, I can make up my mind at the last moment if need be—one can always toss a coin. ’Tis time we were changing our clothes.” On the afternoon of the last day of Everell’s week, something occurred to bring Foxwell to a decision without recourse to the toss of a coin. Georgiana having mentioned to Everell a miniature portrait of herself, he had eagerly expressed a desire to see it. He had thought she would send Prudence for it, but Georgiana, saying that she alone could find it, and that she would return in a minute, left Everell in the garden. As she entered the hall, on the way to her apartments, she saw her uncle there in the act of greeting Squire Thornby, who had evidently just dismounted from his horse. She curtsied, and essayed to pass swiftly to the stairs, but Thornby intervened. “Nay, one moment, Miss Foxwell,” said he, with precipitation, and looking very red in the face. “I’m going to say something to your uncle that concerns you.” As he stood directly in her way, she had no choice but to stop. She did not conceal her impatience. “It needn’t keep you long,” Thornby went on, “for I won’t beat about the bush. Mr. Foxwell, I may say without vanity I’m a man of some substance as fortunes go in this here part of the world. And, in course, you know I’m a bachelor. Not because I’m a woman-hater, but because, to be all open and aboveboard, I never yet saw the woman in these parts that I thought fit to be mistress of Thornby Hall—damn me if I ever did!” “I can understand your feeling, Mr. Thornby,” said Foxwell, while the Squire paused and glared at both uncle and niece.