y was not so
thoroughly beaten and thrown aside, after all.

So they got to Three Bridges, and there they found the carriage awaiting
them; and presently they were whirling away along the dark roads, with
the lamps shining alternately on a line of hedge or on a long stretch of
ivied brick wall. And at last they passed a lodge gate, and drove
through a great and silent park; and finally, rattling over the gravel,
drew up in front of some gray steps and a blaze of light coming from the
wide-open doors. Under Lord Beauregard's guidance, they went into the
drawing-room, and found a number of people idly chatting there, or
reading by the subdued light of the various lamps on the small tables.
There was a good deal of talk about the weather. Macleod, vaguely
conscious that these people were only strangers, and that the one heart
that was thinking of him was now far away, paid but little heed; if he
had been told that the barometer predicted fifteen thunder-storms for
the morrow, he would have been neither startled nor dismayed.

But he managed to say to his host, aside:--

"Beauregard, look here. I suppose, in this sort of shooting, you have
some little understanding with your head-keeper about the posts--who is
to be a bit favored, you know. Well, I wish you would ask him to look
after my friend Stuart. He can leave me out altogether, if he likes."

"My dear fellow, there will be scarcely any difference; but I will look
after your friend myself. I suppose you have no guns with you?"

"I have borrowed Ogilvie's. Stuart has none."

"I will get one for him."

By and by they went upstairs to their respective rooms, and Macleod was
left alone, that is to say, he was scarcely aware of the presence of the
man who was opening his portmanteau and putting out his things. He lay
back in the low easy-chair, and stared absently into the blazing fire.
This was a beautiful but a lonely house. There were many strangers in
it. But if she had been one of the people below--if he could at this
moment look forward to meeting her at dinner--if there was a chance of
his sitting beside her and listening to the low and sweet voice--with
what an eager joy he would have waited for the sound of the bell! As it
was, his heart was in London. He had no sort of interest in this big
house, or in the strangers whom he had met, or in the proceedings of the
morrow, about which all the men were talking. It was a lonely house.

He was aroused by a tappin