had. And I think he liked me," Simon Orts said aloud, with a touch of shy
pride. "Yes, and you trusted me, didn't you, Vincent? Wait for me, then,
my Lord,--I shall not be long. And now I'll serve you faithfully. I had to
play the man's part, you know,--you mustn't grudge old Simon his one hour
of manhood. You wouldn't, I think. And in any event, I shall be with you
presently, and you can cuff me for it if you like--just as you used to do."

He covered the dead face with his handkerchief, but in the instant he drew
it away. "No, not this coarse cambric. You were too much of a fop, Vincent.
I will use yours--the finest linen, my Lord. You see old Simon knows your
tastes."

He drew himself erect exultantly.

"They will come at dawn to kill me; but I have had my hour. God, the man I
might have been! And now--well, perhaps He would not be offended if I said
a bit of a prayer for Vincent."

So the Vicar of Heriz Magna knelt beside the flesh that had been Lord
Rokesle, and there they found him in the morning.




II

LOVE AT MARTINMAS
_As Played at Tunbridge Wells, April 1, 1750_

"_He to love an altar built