its and hunting parties
were alike abandoned; no one felt in the humour to participate in
gaieties, of whatever kind, so long as the baron was away; and the
guests who had assembled to witness the tournament had, with few
exceptions, returned to their homes feeling deprived, in a large
measure, of that succession of festivities and enjoyments to which
they had looked forward with so much expectancy.

Sir Henry was still confined to his room from the injuries which he
had received in his encounter with Manners; and Cousin Benedict, who
had stayed to take the baron's place during his enforced absence, had
found his position so intolerably lonely that he at last took refuge
in such copious libations of wine that henceforward his interest in
contemporary events entirely ceased.

This air of desolation had infected Lady Vernon, too. Her temper,
never of the mildest disposition, now became exceedingly irritable,
and finding little consolation forthcoming from Sir Benedict, she
vented her spleen with all those with whom she came into contact, and
finally shut herself up within her own room and added to the misery of
the household by obstinately refusing to hold any intercourse with the
family.

Margaret and Dorothy were thus thrown much upon their own resources,
and they managed to spend the time wearily enough at the tapestry
frame until Manners and Crowleigh paid a visit to the Hall--ostensibly
to inquire after the health of the wounded knight. Their arrival, as
might be readily imagined, was cordially welcomed by the girls,
and nothing beyond a first request was required to induce the two
gentlemen to stay; and, so once again, Manners found himself, to his
heart's great contentment, housed under the same roof as the lady of
his love.

This time, however, he had come with the firm determination to bring
matters to a crisis. He felt that his passion for Dorothy could be no
longer controlled. Her bearing towards him had fired him with hope,
but her position and her surpassing beauty had brought so many suitors
to worship at her shrine that he was driven to despair between the
conflicting emotions of hope and fear.

For a whole day he waited a favourable opportunity to carry out his
purpose, and in vain. The two sisters seemed to be inseparable in this
time of trouble, and try as he might he could not get the interview
for which he so ardently longed. The fates were unpropitious, and one
after another his artifices were