ence, and that's something that many a rich man
could n't buy with all his money."

"I think it's the time for the children's dinner, Miss Stewart," said
the grim lady, entering. "I am sorry it should cut short an interview so
interesting."

A half-angry reply rose to Tony's lips, when a look from Dora stopped
him, and he stammered out, "May I call and see you again before I go
back?"

"When _do_ you go back, young gentleman?" asked the thin lady.

"That's more than I can tell. This week if I can; next week if I must."

"If you 'll write me a line, then, and say what day it would be your
convenience to come down here, I will reply, and state whether it will
be Miss Stewart's and mine to receive you."

"Come, at all events," said Dora, in a low voice, as they shook hands
and parted.

"Poor Dolly!" muttered he, as he went his way towards town. "What
between the pale cheeks and the cropped hair and the odious cap, I 'd
never have known her!" He suddenly heard the sound of footsteps behind
him, and, turning, he saw her running towards him at full speed.

"You had forgotten your cane, Tony," said she, half breathless, "and I
knew it was an old favorite of yours, and you 'd be sorry to think it
was lost. Tell me one thing," cried she, and her cheek flushed even a
deeper hue than the exercise had given it; "could you--would you be a
clerk--in a merchant's office, I mean?"

"Why do you ask me, Dolly?" said he; for her eager and anxious face
directed all his solicitude from himself to her.

"If you only would and could, Tony," continued she, "write. No; make
papa write me a line to say so. There, I have no time for more; I have
already done enough to secure me a rare lesson when I get back. Don't
come here again."

She was gone before he could answer her; and with a heavier heart and
a very puzzled head, he resumed his road to London, "Don't come here
again" ringing in his head as he went.

CHAPTER VII. LYLE ABBEY AND ITS GUESTS

The company at Lyle Abbey saw very little of Maitland for some days
after his arrival. He never appeared of a morning; he only once came
down to dinner; his pretext was indifferent health, and Mark showed a
disposition to quarrel with any one who disputed it. Not, indeed, that
the squirearchy then present were at all disposed to regret Maitland's
absence. They would infinitely rather have discussed his peculiarities
in secret committee than meet himself in open debate. It was not ver