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Sir Nicolas came out to her, she was no longer gentle with him as she had been before this, but stamped her foot and spoke angrily, with quick, biting words.

"Well," she cried, "where is he? You know, of course?"

"As God is my witness, I know nothing," said he.

"But you were with him last—you were the last to speak to him."

"Indeed, and I was; and when he'd done with me, he went straight to his bedroom. Dora, it's not lies that I'd tell you at such a time."

"Then where is he? what has happened to him? what shall I tell my father? Oh, they love him at home; indeed they do!"

She began to cry at this, and my master took her hand.

"You poor little thing!" said he, drawing her head down upon his shoulder. "Would I harm him, whatever he was—and your brother, too? Don't ye see, child, that he's just gone off in a bit of a huff, and will be back before your tears are dry. Ye'll be the first to laugh when he walks in here."

"He is not the man to do that," said she, though she was no longer angry. "I am sure of it. I dreamed of him all night. He is dead, Nicolas."

Now what should Sir Nicolas do when she said this but give her a great kiss, and burst out laughing.

"Dead!" said he, "then I'm thinking we should get ready for the waking, and ask him to crack the first bottle. Bedad! he's as dead as I am, little