ds, an unwonted suggestion of shyness in her bearing. The ladies
being seated, he took his place opposite to them, and again perused
Miss Tomalin's countenance. Decidedly, she was unlike herself;
manifestly, she avoided his look. Mrs. Toplady talked away, in the
gayest spirits; and the rain came down heavily, and thunder rolled.
Half the distance to St. Pancras was covered before May had uttered
anything more than a trivial word or two. Of a sudden she addressed
Lashmar, as if about to speak of something serious.

"You left all well at Rivenoak?"

"Quite well."

"When did you come away?"

"Early yesterday morning," Dyce replied.

May's eyebrows twitched; her look fell.

"I went to Alverholme," Dyce continued, "to see my people."

May turned her eyes to the window. Uneasiness appeared in her face.
"She wants to know"--said Dyce to himself--"whether I have received
that letter."

"Do you stay in town?" inquired Mrs. Toplady.

"For a week or two, I think." He added, carelessly, "A letter this
morning, forwarded from Rivenoak, brought me back."

May made a nervous movement, and at once exclaimed:

"I suppose your correspondence is enormous, Mr. Lashmar?"

"Enormous--why no. But interesting, especially of late."

"Of course--a public man--"

Impossible to get assurance. The signs he noticed might mean nothing at
all; on the other hand, they were perhaps decisive. More about the
letter of this morning he durst not say, lest, if this girl had really
written it, she should think him lacking in delicacy, in discretion.

"Very kind of you, to come to me at once," said Mrs. Toplady. "Is there
good news of the campaign? Come and see me to-morrow, can you? This
afternoon I have an engagement. I shall only just have time to see Miss
Tomalin safe in the railway carriage."

Dyce made no request to be set down. After this remark of Mrs.
Toplady's, a project formed itself in his mind. When the carriage
entered Euston Road, rain was still falling.

"This'll do good," he remarked. "The country wants it."

His thoughts returned to the morning, a week ago, when Constance and he
had been balked of their ride by a heavy shower. He saw the
summer-house among the trees; he saw Constance's face, and heard her
accents.

They reached the station. As a matter of course, Dyce accompanied his
friends on to the platform, where the train was already standing. Miss
Tomalin selected her scat. There was leave-taking. Dyce walked awa