Having tried the side-saddle upon Lilith, and found all it wanted was a little change in the stuffing about the withers, I told Styles to take it and the mare to Minstercombe the next morning, and have it properly fitted. What trifles I am lingering upon! Lilith is gone to the worms--no, that I _do not_ believe: amongst the things most people believe, and I cannot, that is one; but at all events she is dead, and the saddle gone to worms; and yet, for reasons which will want no explanation to my one reader, I care to linger even on the fringes of this part of the web of my story. I wandered about the field and house, building and demolishing many an airy abode, until Styles came back. I had told him to get the job done at once, and not return without the saddle. ‘Can I trust you, Styles?’ I said abruptly. ‘I hope so, sir. If I may make so bold, I don’t think I was altogether to blame about that book--’ ‘Of course not. I told you so. Never think of it again. Can you keep a secret?’ ‘I can try, sir. You’ve been a good master to me, I’m sure, sir.’ ‘That I mean to be still, if I can. Do you know the parish of Spurdene?’ ‘I was born there, sir.’ ‘Ah! that’s not so convenient. Do you know the rectory?’ ‘Every stone of it, I may say, sir.’ ‘And do they know you?’ ‘Well, it’s some years since I left--a mere boy, sir.’ ‘I want you, then--if it be possible--you can tell best--to set out with Lilith to-morrow night--I hope it will be a warm night. You must groom her thoroughly, put on the side-saddle and her new bridle, and lead her--you’re not to ride her, mind--I don’t want her to get hot--lead her to the rectory of Spurdene--and-now here is the point--if it be possible, take her up to the stable, and fasten her by this silver chain to the ring at the door of it--as near morning as you safely can to avoid discovery, for she mustn’t stand longer at this season of the year than can be helped. I will tell you all.--I mean her for a present to Miss Osborne; but I do not want any one to know where she comes from. None of them, I believe, have ever seen her. I will write something on a card, which you will fasten to one of the pommels, throwing over all this horsecloth.’ I gave him a fine bear-skin I had bought for the purpose. He smiled, and, with evident enjoyment of the spirit of the thing, promised to do his best. Lilith looked lovely as he set out with her late the following night. When he returned the next morning, he reported that everything had succeeded admirably. He had carried out my instructions to the letter; and my white Lilith had by that time, I hoped, been caressed, possibly fed, by the hands of Mary Osborne herself. I may just mention that on the card I had written, or rather printed, the words: ‘To Mary Osborne, from a friend.’ In a day or two I went back to London, but said nothing to Charley of what I had done--waiting to hear from him first what they said about it.