rs. Bywank
and kissed her, and said, 'Come, let's have some lunch,
then!'--giving half-a-dozen orders to Phoebe as she went along.
But the minute lunch was over, Wych Hazel stepped into her
carriage and drove away. Not the landau this time, through the
September day was fair and soft; neither was the young lady
arrayed in any wise for paying visits; her white cloud of
morning muslin and lace, her broad gipsy hat, and gauntlets
caught up and carried in her hand, not put on,--so she bestowed
herself in the close carriage which generally she used only by
night. And the low-spoken orders to Reo were, to take her a
road she had never been, and drive till she told him to stop.
Then she threw herself back against the cushions, and buried
her face in hands, and tried to think.

If _that_ was to leave her 'practically to Mr. Falkirk,' her
knowledge of English was somewhat deficient. And if belonging
to somebody merely 'in idea' had such results!--but she was shy
of the 'idea,' blushing over it there all by herself as she
pushed it away. She was disappointed, there was no doubt about
that. Foiled of her plan, over which she had pleased herself;
for she had intended to give a 'no' instead of a 'yes' at the
right place in the charade, to the discomfiture of all
parties;--curbed by a strong hand, which she never could bear;
hurt and sorrowful that nobody would trust her with even the
care of her own womanhood.

'I wonder what there is about me?' she cried to herself, with
two or three indignant tears rushing up unbidden. 'As if I had
not had a sharper lesson the other night than any _he_ could
give!'--No, quite that; the sharpest dated further back; but
this would have been enough of itself. And what else was she
to do or not do?--she took down her hands, and crossed them,
and looked at them as she had done before the picture of the
'loss of all things.' These bonds did not feel like those; she
did not like them, none the less;--and--she wondered what was
his idea of _close_ guardianship? And had he made any
misstatements?--Reo drove on and on, till his practised eye saw
that to get home by tea-time was all that was left, and then
stopped and got permission to turn round.

But driving seemed to have become a sudden passion with Miss
Wych. She kept herself out, somewhere, somehow, day after day;
denied of course to all visitors, and of small avail to Mr.
Falkirk, except to pour out his coffee. Miss Kennedy was in
danger of cr