HOOKED FOUL. 223 



Simply a casual meeting, and an abrupt parting. What 

 more would you have ? 



" Let me detain you another moment. There was some- 

 thing else. The nut-brown maid was a clergyman's daughter, 

 Miss Graham by name. So much I found out by directly 

 questioning the keeper. I drove out of Garstanger Park, 

 sincerely wishing it had been my fortune to know more of 

 her, debating whether the phase of strong-mindedness I had 

 seen was a desirable symptom for a young lady and a clergy- 

 man's daughter, and altogether a little the smallest bit 

 in love with her. 



" A month or two later came that German episode of 

 mine, and the nut-brown maid, though not absolutely 

 forgotten, was not a frequent or troublesome visitor at 

 Memory's door. She used to knock at it in the quiet hours 

 sometimes, and I would always open it, and admit and keep 

 her there as long as possible. But I can conscientiously 

 -aver she was merely as the refrain of a dreamy melody float- 

 ing from a distance. I was destined to be somewhat rudely 

 reminded of her and hers on my return to England. 



" Dozing in the big easy chair of my sitting-room one 

 twilight, the tableau I described at the keeper's lodge came 

 to me in a vision, in which the young man skulking at the 

 gate seemed to change into the pike hanging from the steel- 

 yard. It may seem very like a storyteller's trick to say it, 

 but I was awakened by a knocking at my door, and the 

 young man himself pushed past the servant, and stalked into 

 the room. 



" ' Do you thee thith whip ? ' he said, flourishing a heavy- 

 thonged hunting weapon. 



" * Thit down, young man/ I answered, mockingly, but 



