"Why will you not marry?" And for one moment she is willing to cut her heart out so he is happy; the next, ready to tear the heart from any woman who could make him so.

He sees by her tones the effect he is producing; he must again don his mask, and not excite her pity by reference to the sadness of his inner life, caused by his dead father's griefs; he had been foolish, but he had wished her in an indirect way to know that as no woman held his whole heart neither could she; and so, almost in his old easy tones, he says:

"Why not marry? I prefer you to frame some pretty imaginings to bore you on our pleasure jaunt with my own; and here we are at our English Frascati, Richmond the enchanting. Have you ever sunned yourself in Italy, fair madame?"

"No, nor should I care to; the Italian is too lazy, too dreamy for me."

"Then you cannot enter into the spirit of Thompson's 'Castle of Indolence?'"

"There is no spirit in it; no, I had rather sell peanuts at a Broadway corner, roast chestnuts on a Parisian boulevard, or flowers in Regent Street, than wade through one stanza of his sleepy poems."

Trevalyon laughed, saying:

"How full of active life and vim you are; now, I, at times, could write of dreamy idleness _con amore_. Do you never weary of our incessant hunt after some new sensation?"

"Never! 'tis the very main-spring of my existence, 'tis what I live for."

"How will you manage to kill time at 'Haughton' Hall out of the season?"

"You will be there," and the black eyes meet his unflinchingly. "And if not I am a great wanderer."

"Some distraction shall dull my senses till you come."

"But, you poor little fire-eater, supposing your liking for me to be real," and no ear but hers heard his whispered words "with my knowledge of Haughton's n.o.ble nature, I should curse myself did I cause him one jealous pang."

She pressed close to him as she breathed tenderly--

"Trust me my idol he shall never dream of my idolatry."

And the pa.s.sionate face is transfigured in a tenderness new to it, for her pa.s.sion has grown doubly strong in this drive from London, and she hugs to herself the thought that her love will beget his, all shame for its avowal is foreign to her breast, reckless and impulsive, her wish is her will.

"Your heart is as loving and untamed as Eve's, you must not tempt me to forget that he is my friend."

"I _must_." And the jewelled fingers (for her gloves are off) cling to his as he a.s.sists her to alight, for Richmond pa.s.sed they are at the village of 'Haughton,' and the guard has called--

"Ladies and gentlemen for the Hall please alight."

A covered carriage and dog-cart are down in answer to the telegram of Colonel Haughton who has already alighted and meets his guests as they emerge from the carriage.

"Here we are again," says small Sir Tilton Everly, "Such a jolly drive, I am glad you invited me, Colonel Haughton; never was past Richmond proper before."

"No?" said the Colonel carelessly, and, stepping quickly to Mrs.

Tompkins, says, "It has been dreary banishment to me; allow me."

"You look like a man who has missed his dinner; or, as John Bull, outwitted by brother Jonathan," said his bride elect with a latent meaning as laughing heartily she takes his arm to the carriage.

"Or had a John Bright man step in before him at the election."

"Confound his impudence," thought Colonel Haughton, saying, "I am not, a Mark Tapley."

"Any man with a spice of gallantry" said Trevalyon coming to his friend's aid, "would feel as if Siberian banishment had been his portion, had he been separated from so fair a group of ladies."

Are the men doing anything to 'Rose Cottage' Trimmer," enquired his master of a shrewd looking man in brown and buff livery.

"Yes, sir, it's in good order now."

"This lady is my new tenant, anything you can do Trimmer to meet her requirements will oblige me."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you Colonel Haughton, you are very kind," said Mrs. Marchmont.

"Don't mention it, anything I can do will give me pleasure."

"It is a sweet spot; my darling child, Miranda, is a naturalist and will collect many insects."

"From the Hall?" said Blanche with her innocent air.

"No, no, dear, from the grounds."

"Drive on, Trimmer, I shall take the dog-cart."

"Yes, sir."

"What a sweet spot and how quaint the shops look," said Mrs. Marchmont as they were rapidly driven through the village.

"Not quaint, but vacant" laughed Mrs. Tompkins, "the whole thing has a vacant air about it, the inhabitant looks as though he was born yesterday and wondering what day it was; I'd rather see a yankee whittling a stick with his saucy independent air; hat on the back of his head so he can see what is going on, than any one of 'em."

"I could buy out the whole lot myself," said Blanche jeeringly, with her small head turning as if on a pivot.

"What a delightful feeling," said Mrs. Meltonbury, admiringly, "Yes it's just too lovely. If my poppa was here he'd throw no end of dimes and pea-nuts among 'em; always had pea-nuts in his pockets; how they stare, it's just too funny for anything."

"How wealthy he must have been, I just adore money!" said the Meltonbury.

"I believe you," answered Blanche laconically.

"Pity you have that husband out in Ontario, Melty," said Mrs.

Tompkins, "or I should soon find you another millionaire, you ought to get a divorce, plea; he is Canadian Government _attache_ not your _attache_."

"What a dear thing you are; it would be too sweet."

"Which, the millionaire or the divorce," at which there was a peal of laughter.

"I am afraid sister referred to the man," sighed Mrs. Marchmont, "but how sad for poor dear Meltonbury."

"He'd survive it," said Blanche sententiously.

"As I live there is Lord Rivers and a man worth stopping for. Halt, coachman," cried Mrs. Tompkins eagerly.