worlds. He was tired of rushing up and down. He was not so fond of
yachting, after all; and he remembered that he had been many times to
Norway.

"I would get out of it if I could," he said to Lady Mary on the last
morning; "and of this blue serge suit, too (you should see Miss Wyndham
in blue serge!); but it is not a question of pleasure, but of principle.
I don't like to throw over Wyndham at the last moment, after what you
said when I failed the Hope-Actons last year. Twins could not feel more
exactly together than you and I do where a principle is involved. I see
you are about to advise me to keep my engagement. Do not trouble to do
so; I am going to Portsmouth by the mid-day train. Brown is at this
moment packing my telescope and life-belt."

CHAPTER XI.

It was the end of August. The little lawn at Slumberleigh Rectory was
parched and brown. The glebe beyond was brown; so was the field beyond
that. The thirsty road was ash-white between its gray hedge-rows. It was
hotter in the open air than in the house, but Ruth had brought her books
out into the garden all the same, and had made a conscientious effort to
read under the chestnut-tree.

For under the same roof with Mrs. Alwynn she had soon learned that
application or study of any kind was an impossibility. Mrs. Alwynn had
several maxims as to the conduct of herself, and consequently of every
one else, and one of those to which she most frequently gave utterance
was that "young people should always be cheery and sociable, and should
not be left too much to themselves."

When in the winter Mr. Alwynn had brought home Ruth, quite overwhelmed
for the time by the shock of the first real trouble she had known, Mrs.
Alwynn was kindness itself in the way of sweet-breads and warm rooms;
but the only thing Ruth craved for, to be left alone, she would not
allow for a moment. No! Mrs. Alwynn was cheerful, brisk, and pious at
intervals. If she found her niece was sitting in her own room, she
bustled up-stairs, poked the fire, gave her a kiss, and finally brought
her down to the drawing-room, where she told her she would be as quiet
as in her own room. She need not be afraid her uncle would come in; and
she must not allow herself to get moped. What would she, Mrs. Alwynn,
have done, she would like to know, if, when she was in trouble--and she
knew what trouble meant, if any one did--she had allowed herself to get
moped. Ruth must try and bear up. And at Lady Deyn