answered simply. "It was only a word of warning. I knew something painful was coming."
Searle took his hat. "The pains and the pleasures of this day," he said to his kinsman, "I shall equally never forget. Knowing you," and he offered his hand to Miss Searle, "has been the pleasure of pleasures. I hoped something more was to come of it."
"A deal too much has come of it!" cried our host, irrepressibly.
Searle looked at him mildly, almost benignantly, from head to foot; and then closing his eyes with an air of sudden physical distress: "I'm afraid so! I can't stand more of this." I gave him my arm, and crossed the threshold. As we passed out I heard Miss Searle burst into a torrent of sobs.
"We shall hear from each other yet, I take it!" cried her brother, harassing our retreat.
Searle stopped and turned round on him sharply, almost fiercely. "O ridiculous man!" he cried.
"Do you mean to say you shall not prosecute?" screamed the other. "I shall force you to prosecute! I shall drag you into court, and you shall be beaten—beaten—beaten!" And this soft vocable continued to ring in our ears as we drove away.
We drove, of course, to the little wayside inn whence we had departed in the morning so unencumbered, in all broad England, with either enemies
