said, " Yes ; he supposed so," and then reluctantly
took himself off; the lovely pearls that
he had brought from town to present to his
Minnie, reposing forgotten in their case in the
depths of his pocket.

Meanwhile Minnie and her friend were again
lounging lazily about the Lower Copse, whither
they had retired when the squire carried off
Jack to the stables. Miss Wharton was in a
mood of serene satisfaction and enjoyment,
but Minnie was miserably uneasy, She had
not her companion's resources for making
herself apathetically comfortable under adverse
circumstances; and she was afraid lest, having
avoided Jack, he should return the compliment,
and leave without seeing her again.
This dread seized on her so strongly by-and-by,
that she said, "Do you mind going in-doors
now, Harry?" She had a hope that she might
yet be in time to intercept him, by taking the
path through the upper wood to the house; but
she did not like to say so precisely, even to her
familiar friend.

"I don't mind going in-doors if you are tired,
though it is pleasanter here. I should like one
more turn round by the pheasant-house, if you
are not in a fuss. What have you to do?" said
Miss Wharton, indifferently.

Minnie was in the habit of yielding to her
caprices, and she replied now that she had
nothing particular to do; so the one turn more round
by the pheasant-house resulted in a dozen turns,
and when the servants' dinner-bell rang, at one
o'clock, they were still in the copse, and Jack
Wyvill was plodding his weary way home, unenlivened
by any thoughts but angry thoughts against
Minnie's friend, to whose evil influence he
attributed his darling's incomprehensible behaviour.
Until Miss Wharton appeared on the scene there
had never been word, or look, or fancy to sow a
doubt between them, and now he felt that they
were balancing dangerously on the brink of a
serious misunderstanding. But it should not
come to a quarrel if it lay in his power to hinder
it. He would stand on no foolish ceremony;
he would have it out with Minnie that night, let
what would come of the explanation; and in
this wise, firm, substantial resolve he set off to
Skelton Place in the evening, arriving only just
in time to give her his arm in to dinner. She
looked shyly bright, and happily penitent when
he met her with his natural air and manner, but
this was no time for any but general chat, and
the difficult moment was of necessity delayed.

Mr. Warren, Squire Conyers's lawyer, made
a sixth at table that day, and in his company
Jack Wyvill left the old gentleman, after a
couple of glasses of wine, to seek the society of
the ladies in the drawing-room. But when he
presented himself, he found Lady Wallace alone;
and she told him, sleepily, that the young people
had availed themselves of the pleasant half-hour
that remained before sunset to take a stroll on
the terrace, where he had better join them. He,
waited for no second hint, but immediately
snatched his wide-awake from the stand in the
hall, and, leaving the house by the principal
entrance, directed his steps towards the raised
walk on the south front, where he expected to
find Miss Wharton and Minnie, debating in his
own mind by what ingenious devices he should
get his darling to himself, and banish her
obnoxious friend.

When Jack Wyvill stepped out upon the
terrace, it was deserted. The vases of scarlet
geraniums stood along it at equal distances from
end to end, but nothing more interesting was
visible. He walked down into the flower-garden
and through the rosery, but nobody was there.
Thence he climbed to the Wilderness, a hilly
ornamental shrubbery of several acres in the
rear of the house, where he paced to and fro
for ever so long, whistling a familiar air, not as
a signal exactly, but that if Minnie were here she
might be made aware he was here too, and seeking
her. By this time the sun had disappeared,
and twilight was creeping on. He returned to
the terrace, pausing to look in at the conservatory
as he passed; but they had not hidden
themselves there. They were not in the house,
nor about the house, nor, as far as eye could see,
were they wandering in the glades of the park;
they must, therefore, have betaken themselves
to the wood or to the copse again!

Jack felt almost sick with vexation and
impatience. It was clear to him that Miss
Wharton had private affairs, and that Minnie
lent herself to the furtherance of them. He
was not inclined to play the spy on Miss
Wharton, but he was strongly disposed to act
watch-dog to his Minnie, and the difficulty of
separating the one proceeding from the other
was very embarrassing. After a brief term of
consideration, he judged it expedient to await
the reappearance of the missing pair, and
returned to Lady Wallace in the drawing-room.

"Have you not found them?" asked she,
surprised to see him come back so quickly. He
replied that they were not anywhere in the
gardens or pleasure-grounds through which he
had walked. " Miss Wharton is fond of
wandering further afield than I like; I must remind
Minnie not to leave the terrace of an evening,"
added her Aunt Mary. She perceived that Jack
was displeased, and allowed to herself that he
had some cause to show why; but, with the
native kindliness of her disposition, she
endeavoured to make a little light conversation to
divert his mind from brooding on it, and,
probably, magnifying it. She did not meet with
the success she deserved; Jack grew more and
more restless and disquieted every minute of
Minnie's absence, and at length, unable to bear it
in patience any longer, he strayed into the
conservatory, and marched to and fro, watching and
waiting in a mood of gathering wrath.

Presently the squire and Mr. Warren entered
the drawing-room, when the squire immediately
asked, " Where are the girls and Wyvill – in the
garden?" Lady Wallace's calm reply was
grounded upon Jack's information, and, after
hearing it, the old gentleman came into the
conservatory, and with a good-humoured wag of his