Consider his position； you faint…hearted and self…pitying young men who think you have a tough row to hoe just because； when you pay your evening visit with the pound box of candy under your arm； you see the handsome sophomore from Yale sitting beside her on the porch； playing the ukulele。 If ever the world has turned black to you in such a situation and the moon gone in behind a cloud； think of George Bevan and what he was up against。 You are at least on the spot。 You can at least put up a fight。 If there are ukuleles in the world； there are also guitars； and tomorrow it may be you and not he who sits on the moonlit porch； it may be he and not you who arrives late。 Who knows？ Tomorrow he may not show up till you have finished the Bedouin's Love Song and are annoying the local birds； roosting in the trees； with Poor Butterfly。
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 onceand 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 herselfand not the same other man； but another other man； who is closely immured in a mediaeval castle 。 。 。 Well； all I say istry 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 munity scuttling for safety to the sheltering walls。
For the first time since he had set out on his expedition； a certain chill； a disforting sinking of the heart； afflicted George as he gazed down at the grim grey fortress which he had undertaken to storm。 So must have felt those marauders of old when they climbed to the top of this very hill to spy out the land。 And George's case was even worse than theirs。 They could at least hope that a strong arm and a stout heart would carry them past those solid walls； they had not to think of social etiquette。 Whereas George was so situated that an unsympathetic butler could put him to rout by refusing him admittance。
The evening was drawing in。 Already； in the brief time he had spent on the hill…top； the sky had turned from blue to saffron and from saffron to grey。 The plaintive voices of homing cows floated up to him from the valley below。 A bat had left its shelter and was wheeling around him； a sinister blot against the sky。 A sickle moon gleamed over the trees。 George felt cold。 He turned。 The shadows of night wrapped him round； and little things in the hedgerows chirped and chittered mockery at him as he stumbled down the lane。
George's request for a lonely furnished cottage somewhere in the neighbourhood of the castle did not； as he had feared； strike the Belpher house…agent as the demand of a lunatic。 Every well…dressed stranger who es to Belpher is automatically set down by the natives as an artist； for the picturesqueness of the place has caused it to be much infested by the brothers and sisters of the brush。 In asking for a cottage； indeed； George did precisely as Belpher society expected him to do； and the agent was reaching for his list almost before the words were out of his mouth。 In less than half an hour George was out in the street again； the owner for the season of what the agent described as a 〃gem〃 and the employer of a farmer's wife who lived near…by and would； as was her custom with artists； e in the morning and evening to 〃do〃 for him。 The interview would have taken but a few minutes； had it not been prolonged by the chattiness of the agent on the subject of the occupants of the castle； to which George listened attentively。 He was not greatly encouraged by what he heard of Lord Marshmoreton。 The earl had made himself notably unpopular in the village recently by his firmthe house…agent said 〃pig…headed〃attitude in respect to a certain dispute about a right…of…way。 It was Lady Caroline； and not the easy…going peer； who was really to blame in the matter； but the impression that George got from the house…agent's description of Lord Marshmoreton was that the latter was a sort of Nero； possessing； in addition to the qualities of a Roman tyrant； many of the least lovable traits of the ghila monster of Arizona。 Hearing this about her father； and having already had the privilege of meeting her brother and studying him at first hand； his heart bled for Maud。 It seemed to him that existence at the castle in such society must be little short of torture。
〃I must do something；〃 he muttered。 〃I must do something quick。〃
〃Beg pardon；〃 said the house…agent。
〃Nothing；〃 said George。 〃Well； I'll take that cottage。 I'd better write you a cheque for the first month's rent now。〃
So George took up his abode； full of strenuousif vaguepurpose； in the plainly…furnished but not unfortable cottage known locally as 〃the one down by Platt's。〃 He might have found a worse billet。 It was a two…storied building of stained red brick； not one of the thatched nests on which he had looked down from the hill。 Those were not for rent； being occupied by families whose ancestors had occupied them for generations back。 The one down by Platt's was a more modern structurea speculation； in fact； of the farmer whose wife came to 〃do〃 for George； and designed especially to acmodate the stranger who had the desire and the money to rent it。 It so departed from type that it possessed a small but undeniable bath…room。 Besides this miracle； there was a cosy sitting…room； a larger bedroom on the floor above and next to this an empty room facing north； which had evidently served artist occupants as a studio。 The remainder of the ground floor was taken up by kitchen and scullery。 The furniture had been constructed by somebody who would probably have done very well if he had taken up some other line of industry； but it was mitigated by a very fine and fortable wicker easy chair； left there by one of last year's artists； and other artists had helped along the good work by relieving the plainness of the walls with a landscape or two。 In fact； when George had removed from the room two antimacassar