His competitor (not suspecting the intimacy between Metcalf and the young lady) pushed his suit briskly; and after a short time, banns were published in the churches of Knaresborough and Kirby-Overblow.—Metcalf was much surprised, having long thought himself secure of her affection. He now began to believe that she had laid more stress on his late follies than he had been aware of, and the remembrance of them gave him exquisite pain, for he loved her tenderly, and was restrained from proposing marriage to her only by the doubts he had of being able to support her in the manner she had been accustomed to. On the other hand, his pride made him disdain to shew that he was hurt, or to take any measures to prevent the match. The publication of banns being complete, the wedding-day was appointed.—The supposed bridegroom had provided an entertainment at his house for upwards of two hundred people; and going with a few friends to Harrogate on the Sunday, proposed the following day for the nuptials, which were to be solemnized at Knaresborough, intending to return to Harrogate to breakfast, where a bride-cake was ready, with a hamper of wine, which latter was to have been carried to Kirby, for the use of the guests he had invited. On the Sunday, Metcalf riding pretty smartly past the Royal Oak, towards the Queen’s Head, was loudly accosted in these words—“One wants to speak with you.” He turned immediately to the stables of the Oak, and, to his joyful surprise, found there his favourite, who had sent her mother’s maid to call him. “Well, lass,” said he, “thou’s going to have a merry day to-morrow; am I to be the fidler?”—“Thou never shalt fiddle at my wedding,” replied she. “What’s the matter? What have I done?” said Metcalf.—“Matters may not end,” said she, “as some folks wish they should.” “What!” said he, “hadst thou rather have me? Canst thou bear starving?”—“Yes,” said she, “with _thee_ I can!” “Give me thy hand, then, lass,—skin for skin, it’s all done!” The girl who had called him being present, he told her, that as she and his horse were the only witnesses to what had passed, he would kill the first who should divulge it.—The immediate concern was to fix on some plan, as Miss Benson was apprehensive of being missed by her friends.—Jack, ever prompt at an expedient, desired that she would that night place a lighted candle in one of the windows of the old house, as soon as the coast was clear, and herself ready to set off, which will doubtless appear to the reader a very extraordinary signal to a blind man; but he had conceived measures for carrying the projected elopement into effect by the assistance of a third person. This being approved of, she went into the house, and in a short time was followed by Metcalf, who was warmly received by the supposed bridegroom and company. The tankard went briskly round with “Success to the intended couple;” in which toast, it may be readily believed, Metcalf joined them most cordially.