Ashcliffe Hall: A tale of the last century

by Emily Sarah Holt

"But how did you get in?" was the question that followed the last mouthful of the pie.

"I represented myself as an artist, in the employ of Sir Godfrey Kneller "—

"Did you ever see him?"

"I once had him shown to me in London. And I asked leave to draw the Hall, and the staircase inside. I knew, after that, Mr. Passmore would ask me to dinner."

"Can you draw?"

"If I could not, my friend, I should have been unwise to take that character. I can do a good many things."

"You are a more ingenious man than I am, Father."

"You are not far wrong there, Gilbert," complacently assented the disguised priest.

"But I cannot believe, Father," pursued Gilbert, "that you came over from France only to see Sir Edward's daughter."

"I protest, Gilbert, you are even more surpassing than I took you for! It must be your conversation with that Jezebel of yours which has dulled your wits. You were a sharper fellow once."