ct the seminary priest under Anthony's disguise, and
amid the surroundings of his cavalcade of four or five armed servants, a
French maid, and a distinguished-looking lady.

Yet, in spite of this, Mr. Buxton resolved to do his utmost to prevent
Isabel from going to Lancashire; partly, of course, he disliked the
thought of the dangers and hardships that she was certain to encounter;
but the real motive was that he had fallen very deeply in love with her.
It was her exceptional serenity that seemed to him her greatest charm;
her movements, her face, her grey eyes, the very folds of her dress
seemed to breathe with it; and to one of Mr. Buxton's temperament such a
presence was cool and sweet and strangely fascinating.

It was now April, and he resolved to devote the next month or two to
preparing her for his proposal; and he wrote frankly to Mary Corbet
telling her how matters stood, entreating her to come down for July and
counsel him. Mary wrote back at once, rather briefly, promising to come;
but not encouraging him greatly.

"I would I could cheer you more," she wrote; "of course I have not seen
Isabel since January; but, unless she has changed, I do not think she
will marry you. I am writing plainly you see, as you ask in your letter.
But I can still say, God prosper you."

* * * *

As the spring went by and the summer came on, Isabel grew yet more
silent. As the evenings began to lengthen out she used to spend much time
before and after supper in walking up and down the clipped lime avenue
between the east end of the church and the great gates that looked over
the meadows across which the stream and the field-path ran towards East
Maskells. Mr. Buxton would watch her sometimes from an upstairs window,
himself unseen, and occasionally would go out and talk with her; but he
found it harder than he used to get on to intimate relations; and he
began to suspect that he had displeased her in some way, and that Mary
Corbet was right. In the afternoon she and Anthony would generally ride
out together, once or twice going round by Penshurst, and their host
would torture himself by his own indecision as regards accompanying them;
sometimes doing so, sometimes refraining, and regretting whichever he
did. More and more he began to look forward to Mary's coming and the
benefit of her advice; and at last, at the end of June, she came.

Their first evening together was delightful f