g his violin into its case as he made his
way down the corkscrew stairs. A single glance assured him that Ruth was
no longer in the churchyard. The Earl of Barfield's carriage blocked
the way at the lich-gate, and the young fellow waited in high impatience
until the obstacle should disappear. His lordship, in view of the
approaching election, was much more amiable and talkative than common,
and he and his protege stood exchanging talk upon indifferent topics
with a little crowd of church-goers, but in a while the earl climbed
slowly into the carriage. Ferdinand skipped nimbly after him and the two
were driven away. Reuben, with hasty nods and good-mornings at one or
two who would have detained him, strode into the highway just in time to
see the dove-colored dress turn at a distant corner. He hurried after
it at his swiftest walk, and reaching the corner in the most evident
violent hurry, narrowly escaped walking over the object of the chase,
who had halted in talk with Aunt Rachel at the place where their
homeward ways divided.

He had expected to find her still far ahead, and this sudden encounter
was amazingly disconcerting to him. To begin with, apart from his real
purpose he had no business whatsoever round that particular corner. Then
to pause suddenly in the midst of so violent a hurry was in itself a
plain proclamation of his intent, and his hot courage had so rapidly
gone cold that the change of inward temperature carried a shock with it.
Nevertheless, he stopped and stammered a disjointed greeting to Rachel,
who returned for sole answer an icy little nod, pinching her lips
together somewhat superciliously as she gave it.

Ruth, who would have been burdened by a shyness equalling Reuben's own
had he succeeded in catching her by herself, was bold enough in the
presence of one of her own sex, and observed the situation with a
delighted mischief. But this was changed, as swiftly as Reuben's
emotions themselves, to a state of freezing discomfort when Aunt Rachel
bolt upright, and with a mincing precision in her speech, demanded to
know if this young--ahem!--this person had any communication to make.

"My dear aunt," said the poor girl, blushing scarlet, and casting an
appealing glance at Reuben.

"You appeared to be in a hurry, Mr. Gold," said the terrible old lady.
"My niece and I will not detain you."

"Thank you," responded Reuben, shaken back into self-possession. "I am
not in a hurry any longer."

Aunt