therefore, she would
not go to meet him.

And no one had told her visitors were expected. She felt aggrieved, and
somehow, unreasonable as she knew it to be, she was angry at Edward's look
of interest and pleasure as he leaned from the saddle in a listening
attitude, as if hearkening to the talk of some one within the carriage.

Zoe had stepped behind a clump of bushes, whose leafy screen hid her from
the view of the approaching party, while through its interstices she could
see them very plainly.

As they drew nearer, she saw that the carriage contained two young,
pretty, ladylike girls, one of whom was talking to Edward with much
animation and earnestness, he listening with evident interest and
amusement.

When the carriage had passed her, Zoe glided away through the shrubbery,
gained the house by a circuitous route and a side entrance, and her own
rooms by a back stairway.

She fully expected to find Edward there, but he was not.

"Where can he be?" she asked herself half aloud, then sat down and waited
for him--not very patiently.

After some little time, which, to Zoe's impatience, seemed very long, she
heard the opening and shutting of a door, then the voices of Mr. Dinsmore,
his daughter, and Edward in conversation, as they came down the hall
together.

"He has been to see his mother first," she pouted. "I think a man ought
always to put his wife first." And turning her back to the door, she took
up a book and made a pretence of being deeply interested in its perusal.

Edward's step, however, passed on into the dressing-room, and as she heard
him moving about there, she grew more and more vexed. It seemed that he
was in no great haste to greet her after this their first day's
separation; he could put it off, not only for a visit to his mother in her
private apartments, but also until he had gone through the somewhat
lengthened duties of the toilet.

Well, she would show him that she, too, could wait--could be as cool and
indifferent as himself. She assumed a graceful attitude in an easy-chair,
her pretty little feet upon a velvet-cushioned stool, and with her book
lying in her lap listened intently to every sound coming from the
adjoining room.

At last she heard his step approach the door, then his hand upon the knob,
when she instantly took up her book and fixed her eyes upon its open page,
as though unconscious of everything but what was printed there, yet really
not taking in the meaning of a si