ad an hour to spare before breakfast. Arrangements had been
made for us to breakfast at ten, and thus be just in time for service at
the little village church.

On my way down-stairs I saw Tom Temple, who told me to find my way to
the library, where I should be able to pass the time pleasantly. I
entered the room, an old-fashioned dark place lined on every side with
books. I felt in no mood for looking at them just then, however, and so
walked to a window and looked out on the snow-draped landscape that
stretched away on every hand. It was a wondrous scene. The snow had
fallen steadily all through the night, and no breath of wind had stirred
the feathery flakes. Thus trees and bushes were laden with snow
crystals, while the spotless white was relieved here and there by some
shining evergreen leaves which peeped out amidst their snowy mantles.
Ordinarily I should have been impressed by it. Now, however, I could not
help thinking of other matters. One face was ever before me, and I
constantly wondered whether she were in real danger from these strange
men, and whether I should have any part in the labour of delivering her
from them. As yet I could do nothing. I knew nothing wrong of them. They
might be impostors, they might be penniless adventurers, but I could not
prove it. Neither could I tell Miss Forrest what I had heard, while
certainly Voltaire had as much right as I had to seek to win her
affections.

These thoughts had scarcely passed through my mind when, hearing a sound
behind me, I turned and saw Miss Forrest, who met me with a bright
"Good-morning" and the compliments of the season. I blushed almost
guiltily at the sound of her voice--I, who had for years declared that
no woman could interest me enough to make my heart throb one whit the
quicker.

"This is a pleasant surprise," I said, after responding to her greeting.
"I quite expected to be alone for an hour at least. You see, we all
remained up so late last night that it was to me a settled matter that
none of you would appear until it was time to start for church."

"I hope I am not disturbing you in your morning's meditations, Mr.
Blake," she replied; "I would have stayed in my room had I thought so."

"On the other hand, I am delighted to see you here. Whether you know it
or not, I rode from London to Leeds with you yesterday, and I have
thought ever since I should like to know you."

She looked straight at me as if she would read my thoughts, and