ose over her bare
neck.

"What I should like best, Lawrence, would be for you to go home
with Isabel and make our excuses to Mr. Stafford. Would you
mind? Or is it too much to ask before you get out of your
evening dress?"

"I should be delighted," said Lawrence, feeling and indeed
looking entirely the reverse. "But Miss Isabel has her brother
to take care of her, she doesn't want me." Isabel gave that
indefinable start which is the prelude of candour, but remained
dumb. "I don't like to leave you to walk up to Wanhope alone."
This, was as near as in civilized life he could go to saying
"to face Clowes alone."

"The length of the drive?" said Laura smiling. "I should prefer
it. You know what Berns is." This was what Lawrence had never
known. "If he's put out I'd rather you weren't there."

"Why, you can't imagine I should care what Bernard said?"

Laura struck her hands together.-"There! There!" she turned to
Val, "can you wonder Bernard feels it?"

"I beg your pardon," said Lawrence from his heart.

"No, the contrast is poignant,'' said Val coldly.

"Dear Val, you always agree with me," said Laura. "Take Captain
Hyde home and give him some breakfast. I'd rather go alone,
Lawrence: it will be easier that way, believe me."

It was impossible to argue with her. But while Val wheeled and
turned in the wide cross, before they took their upward bend
under the climbing beechwood, Lawrence glanced over his shoulder
and saw Mrs. Clowes still standing by the gate of Wanhope,
solitary, a wan gleam of sunlight striking down over her gold
embroideries and ivory coat, a russet leaf or two whirling slowly
round her drooping head: like a butterfly in winter, delicate,
fantastic, and astray.

Breakfast at the vicarage was not a genial meal. Val was anxious
and preoccupied, Isabel in eclipse, even Mr. Stafford out of
humour--vexed with Lawrence, and with Val for bringing Lawrence
in under the immunities of a guest. Lawrence himself was in a
frozen mood. As soon as they had finished he rose: "If you'll
excuse my rushing off I'll go down to Wanhope now."

"By all means," said Mr. Stafford drily.

"Good-bye," said Isabel, casting about for a form of consolation,
and evolving one which, in the circumstances, was possibly
unique: "You'll feel better when you've had a bath."

"I'll walk down with you to Wanhope" said Val.

"You? Oh! no, don't bother," said Lawrence very curtly. "I can
manage my cousin, than