Bellew, American Citizen, and millionaire, lay upon
the broad of his back, staring up at the cloudless blue above, and
despite heart break, and a certain Haunting Shadow, felt singularly
content, which feeling he was at some pains with himself to account for.

"It's the exercise," said he, speaking his thought aloud, as he
stretched luxuriously upon his soft, and fragrant couch, "after all,
there is nothing like a little exercise."

"That's what they all say!" nodded the Waggoner. "But I notice as them
as says it, ain't over fond o' doing of it,--they mostly prefers to lie
on their backs, an' talk about it,--like yourself."

"Hum!" said Bellew, "ha! 'Some are born to exercise, some achieve
exercise, and some, like myself, have exercise thrust upon them.' But,
anyway, it is a very excellent thing,--more especially if one is
affected with a--er--broken heart."

"A w'ot?" enquired the Waggoner.

"Blighted affections, then," sighed Bellew, settling himself more
comfortably in the hay.

"You aren't 'inting at--love, are ye?" enquired the Waggoner cocking a
somewhat sheepish eye at him.

"I was, but, just at present," and here Bellew lowered his voice, "it is
a--er--rather painful subject with me,--let us, therefore, talk of
something else."

"You don't mean to say as your 'eart's broke, do ye?" enquired the
Waggoner in a tone of such vast surprise and disbelief, that Bellew
turned, and propped himself on an indignant elbow.

"And why the deuce not?" he retorted, "my heart is no more impervious
than anyone else's,--confound it!"

"But," said the Waggoner, "you ain't got the look of a 'eart-broke cove,
no more than Squire Cassilis,--which the same I heard telling Miss
Anthea as 'is 'eart were broke, no later than yesterday, at two o'clock
in the arternoon, as ever was."

"Anthea!" repeated Bellew, blinking drowsily up at the sky again, "that
is a very quaint name, and very pretty."

"Pretty,--ah,--an' so's Miss Anthea!--as a pict'er."

"Oh, really?" yawned Bellew.

"Ah!" nodded the Waggoner, "there ain't a man, in or out o' the parish,
from Squire down, as don't think the very same."

But here, the Waggoner's voice tailed off into a meaningless drone that
became merged with the creaking of the wheels, the plodding hoof-strokes
of the horses, and Bellew fell asleep.

He was awakened by feeling himself shaken lustily, and, sitting up, saw
that they had come to where a narrow lane branched off from the high