At last, getting exhausted, he stopped, and, holding Mr. Plowden still, gave him a drop-kick—only one. But Jeremy’s leg was very strong, and he always wore thick boots, and the result was startling. Mr. Plowden rose some inches off the ground, and went on his face into a furze-bush. [Illustration: “The result was startling.”] “He will hardly like to show _that_ honourable wound,” reflected Jeremy, as he wiped the perspiration from his brow with every sign of satisfaction. Then he went and picked his fallen enemy out of the bush, where he had nearly fainted, smoothed his clothes, tied the white tie as neatly as he could, and put the wide hat on the dishevelled hair. Then he sat him down on the furze to recover himself. “Good-night, Mr. Plowden, good-night. Next time you wish to hit a man with a big stick, do not wait till his back is turned. Ah, I daresay your head aches. I should advise you to go home and have a nice sleep.” And Jeremy departed on his way, filled with a fearful joy. When he reached the Cottage he found everything in a state of confusion. Miss Ceswick, it appeared, had been suddenly taken very seriously ill; indeed, it was feared that she had got a stroke of apoplexy. He managed, however, to send up a message to Eva to say that he wished to speak to her for a minute. Presently she came down, crying. “O, my poor aunt is so dreadfully ill,” she said. “We think that she is dying!” Jeremy offered some awkward condolences, and indeed was much distressed. He liked old Miss Ceswick. “I am going to South Africa to-morrow. Miss Eva,” he said. She started violently, and blushed up to her hair. “Going to South Africa! What for?” “I am going to look for Ernest. We are afraid that something must have happened to him.” “O, don’t say that!” she said. “Perhaps he has—amusements which prevent his writing.” “I may as well tell you that I saw something of what passed between you and Mr. Plowden.” Again Eva blushed. “Mr. Plowden was very rude,” she said. “So I thought; but I think that he is sorry for it now!” “What do you mean?” “I mean that I nearly shook his ugly head off for him.” “O, how could you?” Eva asked, severely; but there was no severity on her face. Just then Florence’s voice was heard calling imperatively. “I must go,” said Eva. “Have you any message for Ernest, if I find him?” Eva hesitated. “I know all about it,” said Jeremy, considerately turning his head. “O no, I have no message—that is—O, tell him _that I love him dearly!_” and she turned and fled upstairs. CHAPTER V. FLORENCE ON MARRIAGE Miss Ceswick’s seizure turned out to be even worse than was anticipated. Once she appeared to regain consciousness, and began to mutter something; then she sank back into a torpor, out of which she never woke again.