"In the kitchen, sur?"
"No, in here," for a great hope was in my heart.
A few seconds later an old man entered the room bearing a harp.
"Welcome home, Uncle Anthony," I said.
"No, not home," he said tremblingly, "but I will stay one night if you will let me."
"No, always," said my dear Nancy, "stay for the sake of my mother, the other Nancy."
He is with us still, and is much respected in our parish. No one knows the part he played in the days before Nancy became my wife, and although I believe Hugh Boscawen hath his suspicions, he says nothing.
THE END.