d fain say
something difficult to form into satisfactory speech. At this moment,
Lord Sartoris, coming suddenly round the angle of the road, sees them.

Ruth lowers her eyes, and some slight transient color creeps into her
cheeks. Sartoris, coming quickly up to them, makes some conventional
speech to her, and then turns to his nephew.

"Where are you going?" he asks, coldly.

"I was going to Hythe," returned the young man, easily. "Just as well
I didn't, eh? Should have found you out."

"Found me out,--yes," repeats his uncle, looking at him strangely. How
long--how long it takes to find out some people, on whom our very
hearts are set. "I am going to the village."

"Then so am I," says Branscombe. "Though I should think it would run
the original 'deserted' one close on such a day as this. Good-by,
Ruth."

He holds out his hand; and the girl, silently returning his warm
pressure, makes a faint courtesy to Lord Sartoris. There is no
servility, but some nervousness, in the slight salutation.

"How is your father, Ruth?" asks he, detaining her by a quick movement
of the hand.

"Quite well, thank you, my lord." Some timidity is discernible in her
tone, caused by the unmistakable reproof and sternness in his.

"I am glad to hear it. There is no worthier man in all the parish than
John Annersley. I hope nothing will ever occur to grieve or sadden
that good old man."

"I hope not, my lord," returns she, steadily, although his voice has
meaning in it. In another moment she is gone.

"How does your farming go on, Dorian?" asks Lord Sartoris, presently,
rousing himself from a puzzling revery.

"Quite in the model line," says Dorian, cheerful. "That Sawyer is an
invaluable fellow. Does all the work, you know,--which is most
satisfactory. Looks after the men, pays their wages, and takes all
trouble off my shoulders. Never could understand what a perfect
treasure is till I got him. Every one says I am most fortunate in my
choice of a steward."

"I dare say. It is amazing the amount of information people possess
about other people's servants. But you look after things yourself, of
course? However faithful and trustworthy one's hirelings may be, one's
own eyes should also be in the matter."

"Oh, of course," acquiesces Dorian, still cheerfully. "Nothing like
personal supervision, and so on. Every now and then, you know, I do
look over the accounts, and ask a few questions, and show myself very
learned in drainages,