"Nance, my sweet lass," said I, pulling Sultan up, "do you know that dirty little ale-house near your home?"
"Where the painted woman lives, sir?"
"That very place! Now Swift Nicks is hiding there. Go back and tell the Squire you can find Swift Nicks for him, and they'll fill your pinner with guineas. You'll kiss me for a pinnerfull of guineas, won't you?"
"No, sir," said she very decidedly.
"Then kiss me, Nance, because, though we shall never meet again, we've helped one another when we did meet."
She put her foot on mine, and I lifted her up in my arms and kissed her red young lips and tear-stained cheeks.
"Good-bye, Nance!"
"Good-bye, sir. God bless you!"
At a bend in the road I turned to look at her again. She was standing there, looking after me, and waved her bonnet in farewell. I took off my hat and waved back, and then she was gone from sight.
"She's a good girl is Nance," said I aloud, "and you, curse you, are the cause of all my troubles"--this to my new hat. My foppery had cost me dear. What would the Prince say to my failure? What would Margaret say? There would once more be questionings in her eyes, and the shadow of doubt on her face.