A Damsel in Distress

What I mean to say is, you are on the map. You have a sporting

chance. Whereas George... Well, just go over to England and try

wooing an earl's daughter whom you have only met once--and then

without an introduction; whose brother's hat you have smashed

beyond repair; whose family wishes her to marry some other man: who

wants to marry some other man herself--and not the same other man,

but another other man; who is closely immured in a mediaeval castle

. . . Well, all I say is--try it. And then go back to your porch

with a chastened spirit and admit that you might be a whole lot

worse off.

George, as I say, had not envisaged the peculiar difficulties of

his position. Nor did he until the evening of his second day at the

Marshmoreton Arms. Until then, as I have indicated, he roamed in a

golden mist of dreamy meditation among the soothing by-ways of the

village of Belpher. But after lunch on the second day it came upon

him that all this sort of thing was pleasant but not practical.

Action was what was needed. Action.

The first, the obvious move was to locate the castle. Inquiries at

the Marshmoreton Arms elicited the fact that it was "a step" up the

road that ran past the front door of the inn. But this wasn't the

day of the week when the general public was admitted. The

sightseer could invade Belpher Castle on Thursdays only, between

the hours of two and four. On other days of the week all he could

do was to stand like Moses on Pisgah and take in the general effect

from a distance. As this was all that George had hoped to be able

to do, he set forth.

It speedily became evident to George that "a step" was a euphemism.

Five miles did he tramp before, trudging wearily up a winding lane,

he came out on a breeze-swept hill-top, and saw below him, nestling

in its trees, what was now for him the centre of the world. He sat

on a stone wail and lit a pipe. Belpher Castle. Maud's home. There

it was. And now what?

The first thought that came to him was practical, even prosaic--

the thought that he couldn't possibly do this five-miles-there

and-five-miles-back walk, every time he wanted to see the place.

He must shift his base nearer the scene of operations. One of those

trim, thatched cottages down there in the valley would be just the

thing, if he could arrange to take possession of it. They sat there

all round the castle, singly and in groups, like small dogs round

their master. They looked as if they had been there for centuries.

Probably they had, as they were made of stone as solid as that of

the castle. There must have been a time, thought George, when the

castle was the central rallying-point for all those scattered

homes; when rumour of danger from marauders had sent all that

little community scuttling for safety to the sheltering walls.