It will readily be imagined that our artist's return to his native land,
to say nothing of the chain of events that followed--his heroism, his
trial and acquittal, were events that could not be passed over without
celebration. Therefore it is needless to say that the evening was spent
round the merry punch bowl, as usual on festive occasions. Mr. Oldstone was again elected chairman, which post none of the members
felt inclined to dispute with him. The evening opened with a
congratulatory speech from the chairman, addressed to our artist, to
which he replied with brevity and grace. To say that his health was
drunk with the usual three times three would be superfluous. Jack Hearty was called in to join in the toast and invited to take a
seat, while our artist was called upon by the members of the club to
give an account of his adventures among the brigands, which he did in a
manner so graphic, and with such grace and easy command of language,
that the company remained spellbound, drinking in every detail of his
narrative, whether it were a description of natural scenery or
climate--the dress or physiognomy of his captors--their attitudes, their
language, or what not. Nothing was forgotten. His trials and privations,
his thoughts of home, and the friends he had left behind him. (He
mentioned nothing of the girl he left behind him). Then he described the
final tussle with the carabineers, and his subsequent rescue. Thus he
rambled on in one continual flow of diction like a mill stream without
interruption, carried away by his enthusiasm in such a manner as to
leave no doubt in the minds of his hearers as to his having taken part
himself in the adventures he described. "Now, mine host," said the chairman, at the conclusion of this somewhat
prolonged narrative, "what do you say to that?" "Well, well, well," replied that worthy, musingly. "To think that all
that should have happened to one of my gentlemen customers, what's been
in furren parts. Why, it beats the story books out and out. Blessed if I
can't see it all a goin' on before my very eyes." "True, Jack," agreed Mr. Oldstone, "such is the power of our young
friend's eloquence, that one feels that we ourselves have taken part in
it." "Might I point out to the company," began Mr. Blackdeed, "the intensely
dramatic situation of----"

"Also the highly poetical episode----" broke in Mr. Parnassus. "And if you had been there," interrupted our artist in his turn, "you
would have noticed the vivid colouring, the fine grouping of the
figures, the chiaroscuro--the fantastic light and shade that would have
impressed the scene upon your memory in a way never to be forgotten." "Hark at him! Hark at him!" cried several members at once, as they
refilled their glasses from the punch-bowl. The conversation then drifted towards more recent adventures, and our
artist explained in full his sudden appearance on the spot in time to
frustrate the designs of the ravishers, and rescue innocence from
pollution. "And to think that you rescued _my_ daughter from those ruffians, sir,
and at the risk of your own life, too. Why it was admirable! But there,
sir, I can't find no words to thank you with--that I can't." Here our worthy host became very moist; but the chairman filled up his
glass again for him, which he tossed off at a gulp, and felt better. "And now, gentlemen," said the chairman, rising, "just one more toast
before I dismiss this honourable meeting, which I am sure you will all
join in. Here is 'Health, long life, and happiness, both to the rescuer
and the rescued!'" --(Shouts of "Hear, hear!" and "Yes; none but the
brave deserve the fair.") --"Then, here goes with a 'Hip! hip! hip!--hurrah!'" Our artist, somewhat taken aback, blushed up to his scalp, and drank off
the toast good humouredly, after which there was shaking of hands all
round, and every one retired to his dormitory in a comfortable frame of
mind and body. CHAPTER XIV. Need it be told how, on the following morning, as soon after breakfast
as convenient, our artist--and now rich land-proprietor--beckoned to our
host of the "Headless Lady," and with trembling lips and palpitating
heart seized him by the arm, and walked with him for a good pace down
the long, straight road leading up to the door of the inn? Or how the
members of the club, who happened to be looking through the
diamond-shaped panes of the old-fashioned bow window in that direction,
remarked one to the other how mighty intimate our hero had suddenly
become with his landlord, and their wonderments as to what he could find
to talk to him about so confidentially? Suddenly our host was observed to start, slap his thigh, then, with a
hand upon each bent knee, he peers steadily into the face of his
interlocutor, who is placing a hand upon his shoulder. Our host, now
changing his position, extends a broad, fleshy palm towards his
customer, which our artist clasps in his long, slender fingers with a
more than usual hearty shake. "Why, if they are not patting each other on the back, and laughing,"
exclaimed Parnassus. "What _can_ be up?" "Well, that's queer," observed the Professor. "Um--m--m--m?" *       *       *       *       *

Whilst this dumb show was being enacted Dame Hearty entered her
daughter's bedroom to announce to her that she had Dr. Bleedem's full
permission to get up and dress herself; which permission, we may easily
guess, was promptly taken advantage of. So jumping suddenly out of bed
with the agility of youth, she quickly set about her toilet and
ablutions. "There is one thing," began her parent, "I wish to speak to you about." "Yes, mother," responded Helen, absently, brushing out her curls before
the glass with unusual despatch, and without turning towards her parent. "Nay, hear me, girl," continued Dame Hearty; "it is seriously I would
speak." "Say on, then, madam; I am listening." "I am aware--ahem!--I have long taken note," continued her mother, "of a
growing intimacy--a friendship, I may say, and perhaps something
more--between you and this Mr. McGuilp, our guest. I know that he has
done us all a great service--a service that none of us can ever forget,
and you in particular, since he saved your life. It is therefore only
natural and proper that you should feel grateful towards him, and
regard him in the light of a friend, and as a friend, I hope, we shall
ever esteem him; but listen, now, my girl, to what I say. A _too_
intimate friendship between a young couple, out of different stations in
life, such as in the case of yourself, who are only the daughter of a
country inn-keeper, and a gentleman born and educated like Mr. McGuilp,
who is, besides, enormously rich, having inherited all his uncle's
fortune and estates, and consequently moves in the very best society. Such intimacies are dangerous, and may lead on to trouble before you are
aware." "How, mother?" "Bless the child!" answered her mother, impatiently, "must I tell you
everything? Must I make you as wise as myself?