should I,' said Rollo.

'Why?' said Primrose.

'I cannot find in my consciousness, or memory, any
corroboration of your theory.'

'I think I can in mine. Sometimes, at least.'

'Those are not my times,' said Rollo.

'And I don't know but you are right, too,' said Primrose,
musing. 'I remember, that day you were coming home, I had not
the least reason to think so, and yet you were in my mind all
day.'

'What is your explanation then?' said he, smiling at her.

Prim was not ready with it; and before she was ready to speak
again, Wych Hazel was informed that her escort was at her
service.

Dr. Maryland's little old chaise was at the door. Rollo put
Miss Kennedy in it and took the reins. It was late in the
sweet Summer afternoon; the door and the road and the fields
looked exceedingly unlike the same things seen in shadow and
moonlight last night. Rollo never referred to that, however;
he was just as usual; took care that Wych Hazel was
comfortably seated, and made careless little remarks, in his
wonted manner. Various people passed them; many were the
greetings, answered for the most part very sedately by the
young lady of Chickaree. But just as they entered the
outskirts of her own domain, Rollo felt his companion shrink
towards him with a sudden start. Then instantly she sat
upright in her place. Two or three horsemen were in sight, at
different distances; one, the nearest, was a stranger to
Rollo. A remarkably handsome man, splendidly mounted,
faultlessly dressed; riding his grey with the easy grace of a
true cavalier. He uncovered before he was near enough to do
more, and then bent even to his saddle-bow before Miss
Kennedy. And to him, turning full upon him, did Miss Kennedy
administer the most complete, cool, effectual cut that Mr.
Rollo had ever seen bestowed. The rider's face turned crimson
as he passed on.

Rollo made no sort of remark; drove gently, let the old horse
come to a walk; and at last, throwing himself back into the
corner of the chaise, so as to have a better look at his
companion, he said:

'Does daylight and rest make a difference, and are you
inclined to trust me with the explanation of what happened
last night? I should be grateful.'

He could see now with what extreme effort she had done her
work of execution--lip and chin were in a tremor.

'It was no want of trust, Mr. Rollo--I meant you should know.
But--I could not tell you first,' she said rather timidly. 'I
thought, per