"Never fear, Shipmate!" said Bellew in his most nautical manner, "'all's well that ends well,'—a-low, and aloft all's a-taunto. So just take a turn at the lee braces, and keep your weather eye lifting, for you may be sure of this,—if the storm does come,—it will bring the Money Moon with it."
Then, having bidden Small Porges a cheery "Good-night"—Bellew went out to walk among the roses. And, as he walked, he watched the flying wrack of clouds above his head, and listened to the wind that moaned in fitful gusts. Wherefore, having learned in his many travels to read, and interpret such natural signs and omens, he shook his head, and muttered to himself—even as Adam had done before him.
Presently he wandered back into the house, and, filling his pipe, went to hold communion with his friend—the Cavalier.
And thus it was that having ensconced himself in the great elbow-chair, and raised his eyes to the picture, he espied a letter tucked into the frame, thereof. Looking closer, he saw that it was directed to himself. He took it down, and, after a momentary hesitation, broke the seal, and read:
Miss Devine presents her compliments to Mr. Bellew, and regrets to say that owing to unforeseen circumstances, she begs that he will provide himself with other quarters at the expiration of the month, being the Twenty-third inst.
Bellew read the lines slowly, twice over, then, folding the note very carefully, put it into his pocket, and stood for a long time staring at nothing in particular. At length he lifted his head, and looked up into the smiling eyes of the Cavalier, above the mantel.
"Sir," said he, very gravely, "it would almost seem that you were in the right of it,—that yours is the best method, after all!" Then he knocked the ashes from his pipe, and went, slowly, and heavily, up-stairs to bed.
It was a long time before he fell asleep, but he did so at last, for Insomnia is a demon who rarely finds his way into Arcadia. But, all at once, he was awake again,—broad awake, and staring into the dark, for a thousand voices seemed to be screaming in his ears, and eager hands were shaking, and plucking at window and lattice. He started up, and then he knew that the storm was upon them, at last, in all its fury,—rain, and a mighty wind,—a howling raging tempest. Yes, a great, and mighty wind was abroad,—it shrieked under the eaves, it boomed and bellowed in the chimneys, and roared away to carry destruction among the distant woods; while the rain beat hissing against the window-panes.
Surely in all its many years the old house of Dapplemere had seldom borne the brunt of such a storm, so wild,—so fierce, and pitiless!
And, lying there upon his bed, listening to the uproar, and tumult,
Bellew must needs think of her who had once said: