ould summon words to reply. Suddenly he heard
Lord Vargrave's voice behind. The spell was broken; the next moment
Evelyn was alone, and the throng swept into the room towards the
banquet, and laughter and gay voices were heard, and Lord Vargrave was
again by Evelyn's side!

CHAPTER IV.

To you
This journey is devoted.
_Lover's Progress_, Act iv. sc. 1.

AS Cleveland and Maltravers returned homeward, the latter abruptly
checked the cheerful garrulity of his friend. "I have a favour, a great
favour to ask of you."

"And what is that?"

"Let us leave Burleigh tomorrow; I care not at what hour; we need go but
two or three stages if you are fatigued."

"Most hospitable host! and why?"

"It is torture, it is agony to me, to breathe the air of Burleigh,"
cried Maltravers, wildly. "Can you not guess my secret? Have I then
concealed it so well? I love, I adore Evelyn Cameron, and she is
betrothed to--she loves--another!"

Mr. Cleveland was breathless with amaze; Maltravers had indeed so well
concealed his secret, and now his emotion was so impetuous, that it
startled and alarmed the old man, who had never himself experienced a
passion, though he had indulged a sentiment. He sought to console
and soothe; but after the first burst of agony, Maltravers recovered
himself, and said gently,--

"Let us never return to this subject again: it is right that I should
conquer this madness, and conquer it I will! Now you know my weakness,
you will indulge it. My cure, cannot commence until I can no longer see
from my casements the very roof that shelters the affianced bride of
another."

"Certainly, then, we will set off to-morrow: my friend! is it indeed--"

"Ah, cease," interrupted the proud man; "no compassion, I implore: give
me but time and silence,--they are the only remedies."

Before noon the next day, Burleigh was once more deserted by its lord.
As the carriage drove through the village, Mrs. Elton saw it from
her open window; but her patron, too absorbed at that hour even for
benevolence, forgot her existence and yet so complicated are the webs of
fate, that in the breast of that lowly stranger was locked a secret of
the most vital moment to Maltravers.

"Where is he going; where is the squire going?" asked Mrs. Elton,
anxiously.

"Dear heart!" said the cottager, "they do say he be going for a short
time to foren parts. But he will be back at Christmas."

"And at Christmas I may be gon