“You will recognize her,” said Everell, and hastened to conduct Georgiana into the light. Leaving her and Roughwood to mutual surprise and explanation, he returned to the bar of the inn, and, having overcome the landlady’s refusal of payment, possessed himself of his and Georgiana’s luggage. When he reappeared in the yard, his friend had already handed the young lady into the chaise, and was giving directions to the postilion. Everell was for Roughwood’s taking the place beside Georgiana, but that gentleman cut short all dispute by mounting the bar in front and allowing Everell ten seconds in which to enter the chaise. Before less time had passed, Everell was seated at his Georgiana’s side, her hand was stealing into his, the hostler had closed the door of the chaise, and the postilion had given the word of starting. He drove carefully out through the gate with the solitary lamp, slowly on through the lane to the street, and then for the open road southward, the horses getting up speed at the crack of the whip. “And so, Jeremiah Filson,” said Everell, as the lights of the houses ceased and the night lay blue and misty over the fields, “we have left you behind once more.” Thanks to the careful arrangements of Roughwood, no time was lost on the rest of the journey, day or night, and the lovers never saw Jeremiah Filson again. A man answering to his description arrived a day late at the fishing village from which they had set sail; and lingered for a week or more, questioning the inhabitants, and often, from the highest cliffs, gazing far out to sea with a puzzled expression. This they learned from Roughwood’s future wife, when she and her brother came to them in Paris. From Prudence, for whom Georgiana sent as soon as she conveniently could, the lovers—for lovers they remained after marriage and through life—heard the latest news of Foxwell Court and Thornby Hall. Mr. Foxwell had come to a better understanding with his neighbour Thornby, so that the pair now frequently got drunk together at one or the other’s table; they spent considerable time at cards, with results apparently to Foxwell’s satisfaction; and it was settled that he should lend the distinction of his presence to the Squire’s approaching nuptials. For the Squire, as if to show the depth of disappointed love by an urgent need of consolation, had suddenly—and successfully—resolved to marry Sukey Marvell. THE END. ------------------------------------------------------------------------