“Hum!” said Bellew.

“Seeing which, sir, an’ because she must have that money if she ’opes to keep the roof of Dapplemere over ’er ‘ead, I, there an’ then, made up,—­or as you might say,—­concocted a story, a anecdote, or a yarn,—­upon the spot, Mr. Belloo sir.”

“Most excellent Machiavelli!—­proceed!”

“I told her, sir, as you bought that furnitur’ on account of you being wishful to settle down,—­whereat she starts, an’ looks at me wi’ her eyes big, an’ surprised-like.  I told ’er, likewise, as you had told me on the quiet,—­or as you might say,—­con-fi-dential, that you bought that furnitur’ to set up ‘ouse-keeping on account o’ you being on the p’int o’ marrying a fine young lady up to Lonnon,—­”

“What!” Bellew didn’t move, nor did he raise his voice,—­nevertheless Adam started back, and instinctively threw up his arm.

“You—­told her—­that?”

“I did sir.”

“But you knew it was a—­confounded lie.”

“Aye,—­I knowed it.  But I’d tell a hundred,—­ah! thousands o’ lies, con-founded, or otherwise,—­to save Miss Anthea.”

“To save her?”

“From ruination, sir!  From losing Dapplemere Farm, an’ every thing she has in the world.  Lord love ye!—­the ’ops can never bring in by theirselves all the three thousand pounds as is owing,—­it ain’t to be expected,—­but if that three thousand pound ain’t paid over to that dirty Grimes by next Saturday week as ever was, that dirty Grimes turns Miss Anthea out o’ Dapplemere, wi’ Master Georgy, an’ poor little Miss Priscilla,—­An’ what’ll become o’ them then,—­I don’t know.  Lord! when I think of it the ‘Old Adam’ do rise up in me to that extent as I’m minded to take a pitch-fork and go and skewer that there Grimes to his own chimbley corner.  Ye see Mr. Belloo sir,” he went on, seeing Bellew was silent still, “Miss Anthea be that proud, an’ independent that she’d never ha’ took your money, sir, if I hadn’t told her that there lie,—­so that’s why I did tell her that here lie.”

“I see,” nodded Bellew, “I see!—­yes,—­you did quite right.  You acted for the best, and you—­did quite right, Adam,—­yes, quite right”

“Thankee sir!”

“And so—­this is the game I am to play, is it?”

“That’s it, sir; if she ax’s you,—­’are you goin’ to get married?’—­you’ll tell her ’yes,—­to a lady as you’ve knowed from your childhood’s hour,—­living in Lonnon,’—­that’s all, sir.”

“That’s all is it, Adam!” said Bellew slowly, turning to look up at the moon again.  “It doesn’t sound very much, does it?  Well, I’ll play your game,—­Adam,—­yes, you may depend upon me.”

“Thankee, Mr. Belloo sir,—­thankee sir!—­though I do ’ope as you’ll excuse me for taking such liberties, an’ making so free wi’ your ’eart, and your affections, sir?”

“Oh certainly, Adam!—­the cause excuses—­everything.”

“Then, good-night, sir!”

“Good-night, Adam!”