“I will.”
“I am your humble servant.”
Chewkle rubbed his hands with ecstacy. He became a confirmed follower in the belief that “it is better to be born fortunate than rich.”
“Luck’s all,” he ejaculated, in a soliloquy, “and I’ve got it, I have.”
He at once proceeded to tell Colonel Mires a host of lies respecting his mission to Flora. Improbable, and exaggerated as they were, the Colonel, in his raging jealousy and passion, believed them, and readily responded to Chewkle’s request for an earnest of payment before he took a step in his service.
As soon as gold was once more in his purse, the unscrupulous agent declared himself ready to perform anything required of him, and the Colonel drew him by a circuitous path towards the narrow glen Flora was accustomed to visit. He pointed it out to him, and directed him how he might gain access to it unseen.
He had hardly done so when he clutched Chewkle by the arm, and pointed to the pathway leading to it—
“Look!” he exclaimed. “By Heaven, Miss Wilton is proceeding there. Hasten by the route I have described to you, and when she is seated, steal suddenly upon her so as to startle her, then tell her you are from Mr. Vivian’s aunt, and give her this letter. I know what the result will be—she will faint. I will be on the spot, and the rest is provided for. Quick! quick! follow that path, away with you!”
Chewkle, a little bewildered, took the letter and stole cautiously to the spot pointed out to him, while Colonel Mires, with an agitated manner, darted off in a different direction.