“Let me see it,” said Mr. Bartley, for he was the gentleman.  He had come back in some anxiety to see whether Hope had pacified Mary, or whether he must exert himself to make matters smooth with her again.  Whilst he was examining the bracelet, who should appear but Percy Fitzroy, the owner.  Not that he came after the bracelet; on the contrary, that impetuous young gentleman had discovered during the last two hours that he valued Miss Clifford’s love a great deal more than all the bracelets in the world, for all that he was delighted at the unexpected sight of his property.

“Why, that’s mine,” said he.  “It’s an heirloom.  I lent it to Miss Julia Clifford, and when I asked her for it to-day she could not produce it.”

“Oho!” said Mr. Bartley.  “What, do the ladies of the house of Clifford go in for clandestine marriages?”

“Certainly not, sir,” said Fitzroy.  “Don’t you know the difference between a wedding ring and a bracelet?” Then he turned to the man, “Here is a sovereign for your trouble, my man.  Now give me my bracelet.”

To his surprise the hotel-keeper put it behind his back instead of giving it to him.

“Nay,” said he, shaking his head knowingly, “you are not the gentleman that spent the honey-moon with the lady as owns it.  My mistress said I was not to give it into no hands but hers.”

This staggered Percy dreadfully, and he looked from one to another to assist him in solving the mystery.

Bartley came to the assistance of his understanding, but with no regard to the feelings of his heart.  “It’s clear enough what it means, sir; your sweetheart is playing you false.”

That went through the true-lover’s heart like a knife, and poor little Percy leaned in despair against Hope’s workshop window transfixed by the poisoned arrow of jealousy.

At this moment the voice of Colonel Clifford was heard, loud and ringing as usual.  Julia Clifford had decoyed him there in hopes of falling in with Percy and making it up; and to deceive the good Colonel as to her intentions she had been running him down all the way; so the Colonel was heard to say, in a voice for all the village to hear, “Jealous is he, and suspicious?  Then you take my advice and give him up at once.  You will easily find a better man and a bigger.”  After delivering this, like the word of command upon parade, the Colonel was crossing the turf, a yard or two higher up than Hope’s workshop, when the spirit of revenge moved Bartley to retort upon his insulter.

“Hy, Colonel Clifford!”

The Colonel instantly halted, and marched down with Julia on his arm, like a game-cock when another rooster crows defiance.

“And what can you have to say to me, sir?” was his haughty inquiry.

“To take you down a peg.  You rode the high horse pretty hard to-day.  The spotless honor of the Cliffords, eh?”

Then it was fixed bayonets and no quarter.