oom for no other
thought.

The morning brought colder reflections. When--supposing he ever
married, it would be wormwood and gall to see his wife condemned by his
friends! He had looked forward to espousing the daughter of some
irreproachable county family, and returning to his old home to live in
frugal state for the rest of his life; driving to church in the old
barouche, attending a succession of dull, country-house dinners; taking
the chair at village meetings. He tried to imagine Cornelia spending
long, peaceful years as the squire's wife, contentedly pottering about
the village, superintending Dorcas meetings, and finding recreation in
occasional garden parties, where the same people met the same people,
attired in the same frocks, and sat meekly in rows, drinking claret cup
and sour lemonade, but the effort failed. Cornelia obstinately refused
to fit into the niche. He could summon up a vision of her, indeed, but
it was a disconcerting vision, in which she "pranced round," while the
neighbourhood turned its back, and pursed disapproving lips.

He was attracted by the girl--seriously attracted, _but_-- It was a
great big _but_, and he promised himself to be cautious, to think long
and well before taking the plunge. All the same, it seemed imperative
that he should return to Norton. His aunt was always delighted to put
him up, and he could not be happy until he had satisfied himself that
all was well with Cornelia once more. Incidentally also, he was
interested to know what was happening at the Manor.

On the journey to Norton the presence of fellow-travellers kept the
conversation necessarily impersonal, and at the station Cornelia
dismissed her escort, refusing point blank to drive with him to the
Park.

"I'm going back as a sorrowing penitent, and it don't suit the part to
drive up with a dashing young man. There are only two players in this
act, and they are Aunt Soph and myself. You come round in the evening,
when I've paved the way."

"Till to-night, then!" said Guest, raising his hat. Once again, as he
looked at her through the window of the cab, the clear eyes wavered
before his own; once again his scruples vanished. He loved, and the
world held nothing but that glad fact.

Cornelia exhibited much diplomacy in her interview with her aunt.
Seated at the good lady's feet in an attitude of childlike humility, she
related the story of her adventures in simple, unexaggerated language,
without