light to vexed perplexity. Rounding
one of the rhododendron banks, just as he lifted his head from that
acknowledgment of the lady's commendation, he had sight of Emilia with
her hand in the hand of Captain Gambier. What could it mean? what right
had he to hold her hand? Even if he knew her, what right?

The words between Emilia and Captain Gambier were few.

"Why did I not look at you during dinner?" said he. "Was it not better to
wait till we could meet?"

"Then you will walk with me and talk to me all the evening?"

"No: but I will try and come down here next week and meet you again."

"Are you going to-night?"

"Yes."

"To-night? To-night before it strikes a quarter to ten, I am going to
leave here alone. If you would come with me! I want a companion. I know
they will not hurt me, but I don't like being alone. I have given my
promise to sing to some poor people. My friends say I must not go. I must
go. I can't break a promise to poor people. And you have never heard me
really sing my best. Come with me, and I will."

Captain Gambier required certain explanations. He saw that a companion
and protection would be needed by his curious little friend, and as she
was resolved not to break her word, he engaged to take her in the
carriage that was to drive him to the station.

"You make me give up an appointment in town," he said.

"Ah, but you will hear me sing," returned Emilia. "We will drive to
Brookfield and get my harp, and then to Ipley Common. I am to be sure you
will be ready with the carriage at just a quarter to ten?"

The Captain gave her his assurance, and they separated; he to seek out
Adela, she to wander about, the calmest of conspirators against the
serenity of a household.

Meeting Wilfrid and Lady Charlotte, Emilia was asked by him, who it was
she had quitted so abruptly.

"That is the gentleman I told you of. Now I know his name. It is Captain
Gambier."

She was allowed to pass on.

"What is this she says?" Lady Charlotte asked.

"It appears...something about a meeting somewhere accidentally, in the
park, in London, I think; I really don't know. She had forgotten his
name."

Lady Charlotte spurred him with an interrogative "Yes?"

"She wanted to remember his name. That's all. He was kind to her."

"But, after all," remonstrated Lady Charlotte, "that's only a
characteristic of young men, is it not? no special distinction. You are
all kind to girls, to women, to anything!"

Captai