"Let's kiss an' be friends then," quoth Rushmere, pulling her face down to him, at the risk of demolishing all the flowers in her gipsy hat, and imprinting on her cheek a salute, that sounded through the room like the crack of a pistol. The young lady drew back and laughed, but she cast a side-long glance at her mother, which seemed to say, "the vulgar fellow, how can I tolerate him?" Happily unconscious of his newly-found daughter's private sentiments, Mr. Rushmere rubbed his hands together in great glee, exclaiming, in a jocular manner, "That's your sort. I like to be free an' easy wi' friends. It's no use, my dear, putting on grand airs with folks that don't understand 'em." "I believe you are perfectly right," replied Mrs. Gilbert, with another peculiar glance at her mother. "The Bible says, I think, 'that it is no use casting pearls before swine.'" Then turning to Dorothy, upon whose rosy mouth an expression rested very like contempt, she said, "Will you show us the way upstairs? I suppose that even in the country you change your dresses before dinner?" Happily for Gilbert his father had not heard the latter part of his wife's speech, and the insult it implied. The old man's good sense and judgment had been laid to sleep by that Judas-like kiss. "Your wife, Gilly," he said, as she disappeared up the old staircase, "is a fine woman, an' a lady, if ever I saw one. Not very young, though--eh, Gilly? Atween twenty-five and thirty," poking his son in the ribs. "Just the proper age to make a man a good, prudent wife. Well, my boy, I wish you much joy with her, long life, health, prosperity, an' plenty o' fine, stalwart sons to carry _his_ name down to posterity," pointing to the soldier of the covenant. "Come, let us take a glass o' fine old ale on the strength 'ont!" "And what does mother say?" and the soldier went across, and sat down beside the poor pale invalid. "I wish you may be happy, my dear Gilbert. The sight of that empty sleeve sadly takes from the joy of seeing you." "Yes, it is a cruel loss, and yet I am rather proud of it, mother. It was lost fighting for my country. It happened just in the moment of victory, when the shouts of my comrades resounded on all sides. I hardly knew what had happened till the excitement was over, for I believe I shouted as loud as the rest." "Come here, Gilly, and tell me all about it," cried Rushmere, getting a little elevated with that long draught of old ale. "Hurrah, my boy! My brave boy! You be a true Briton an' no mistake. I honour the empty sleeve. It is the badge o' a hero. Lord Nelson wore it afore you." While the parents were asking of their son a thousand interesting questions about the war and his future prospects, Dorothy had conducted the two ladies to their sleeping-rooms.