that lies before me.

In the course of the morning I drove over to the Grove with the two
ladies, to give Milicent an opportunity for bidding farewell to her
mother and sister. They persuaded her to stay with them the rest of the
day, Mrs. Hargrave promising to bring her back in the evening and remain
till the party broke up on the morrow. Consequently, Lady Lowborough and
I had the pleasure of returning _tete-a-tete_ in the carriage together.
For the first mile or two we kept silence, I looking out of my window,
and she leaning back in her corner. But I was not going to restrict
myself to any particular position for her; when I was tired of leaning
forward, with the cold, raw wind in my face, and surveying the russet
hedges and the damp, tangled grass of their banks, I gave it up and leant
back too. With her usual impudence, my companion then made some attempts
to get up a conversation; but the monosyllables 'yes,' or 'no' or
'humph,' were the utmost her several remarks could elicit from me. At
last, on her asking my opinion upon some immaterial point of discussion,
I answered,--'Why do you wish to talk to me, Lady Lowborough? You must
know what I think of you.'

'Well, if you will be so bitter against me,' replied she, 'I can't help
it; but I'm not going to sulk for anybody.' Our short drive was now at
an end. As soon as the carriage door was opened, she sprang out, and
went down the park to meet the gentlemen, who were just returning from
the woods. Of course I did not follow.

But I had not done with her impudence yet: after dinner, I retired to the
drawing-room, as usual, and she accompanied me, but I had the two
children with me, and I gave them my whole attention, and determined to
keep them till the gentlemen came, or till Milicent arrived with her
mother. Little Helen, however, was soon tired of playing, and insisted
upon going to sleep; and while I sat on the sofa with her on my knee, and
Arthur seated beside me, gently playing with her soft, flaxen hair, Lady
Lowborough composedly came and placed herself on the other side.

'To-morrow, Mrs. Huntingdon,' said she, 'you will be delivered from my
presence, which, no doubt, you will be very glad of--it is natural you
should; but do you know I have rendered you a great service? Shall I
tell you what it is?'

'I shall be glad to hear of any service you have rendered me,' said I,
determined to be calm, for I knew by the tone of her voice she wanted t