have missed you.'

There was a little pause, and, like a fool, I lowered my eyes, and blushed.

'I--I was thinking of leaving today; I am so unfortunate--my leave is just
out--it is so unlucky; but I don't quite know whether my aunt Knollys will
allow me to go.'

'_I_?--certainly, my dear Charlie, _I_ don't want you at all,' exclaimed a
voice--Lady Knollys's--briskly, from an open window close by; 'what could
put that in your head, dear?'

And in went my cousin's head, and the window shut down.

'She is _such_ an oddity, poor dear Aunt Knollys,' murmured the young
man, ever so little put out, and he laughed. 'I never know quite what she
wishes, or how to please her; but she's _so_ good-natured; and when she
goes to town for the season--she does not always, you know--her house is
really very gay--you can't think----'

Here again he was interrupted, for the door opened, and Lady Knollys
entered. 'And you know, Charles,' she continued, 'it would not do to forget
your visit to Snodhurst; you wrote, you know, and you have only to-night
and to-morrow. You are thinking of nothing but that moor; I heard you
talking to the gamekeeper; I know he is--is not he, Maud, the brown man
with great whiskers, and leggings? I'm very sorry, you know, but I really
must spoil your shooting, for they do expect you at Snodhurst, Charlie; and
do not you think this window a little too much for Miss Ruthyn? Maud, my
dear, the air is very sharp; shut it down, Charles, and you'd better tell
them to get a fly for you from the town after luncheon. Come, dear,' she
said to me. 'Was not that the breakfast bell? Why does not your papa get a
gong?--it is so hard to know one bell from another.'

I saw that Captain Oakley lingered for a last look, but I did not give it,
and went out smiling with Cousin Knollys, and wondering why old ladies are
so uniformly disagreeable.

In the lobby she said, with an odd, goodnatured look--

'Don't allow any of his love-making, my dear. Charles Oakley has not a
guinea, and an heiress would be very convenient. Of course he has his eyes
about him. Charles is not by any means foolish; and I should not be at all
sorry to see him well married, for I don't think he will do much good
any other way; but there are degrees, and his ideas are sometimes very
impertinent.'

I was an admiring reader of the _Albums_, the _Souvenirs_, the _Keepsakes_,
and all that flood of Christmas-present lore which yearly irrigated
England,