he girl, in a low, deep voice.

"Be it so; on any condition you wish."

"We are agreed, then?"

"Perfectly."

"The figure is yours Nay, sir your promise!"

Groimsell stammered, and blushed, and looked confused; indeed, no man
was less able to extricate himself from any position of embarrassment;
and here the difficulties pressed on every side, for while he scrupled
to accept what he deemed a gift of real value, he felt that they too had
a right to free themselves from the obligation that his presence as a
doctor imposed. At last he saw nothing better than to yield; and in
all the confusion of a bashfully awkward man, he mumbled out his
acknowledgments and catching up the figure, departed.

Hans alone seemed dissatisfied at the result, for as he cast his wistful
looks after the wooden image, his eyes swam with his tears, and he
muttered as he went some words of deep desponding cadence.

CHAPTER VI. A FIRST VISIT.

THE dreary weather of November showed no signs of "taking up." Lowering
days of fog and gloom alternated with cold winds and sleet, so that all
out-door occupation was utterly denied to that imprisoned party, who
were left with so few resources to pass the time within. It is true they
did not make the best of the bad. Lady Hester grew hourly more irritable
and peevish. Sydney Onslow seldom left her room. George took to the
hills every morning, and never returned before a late dinner; while the
doctor, when not with Sir Stafford, spent all his time at the Dal tons',
with whom he had already established a close intimacy.

Lady Hester had exhausted every possible means she could imagine to
while away the hours; she had spent whole days in letter-writing folios
of "tirades" to every one she could think of. She had all the carriages
inspected, and the imperials searched, for books she well knew had
been left behind. She had sent for the landlord's daughter to give her
lessons in German, which she thought of learning during the week. She
had given a morning to the Italian boy with his white mice, and pored
for hours long over the "Livre des Voyageurs," reading the names of
friends who, with better fortune, had taken their departure for Italy.
But at last there came an end even to these frail resources, and she
was left utterly without an occupation to engage, or even a thought to
employ her. The five minutes of morning altercation with Grounsell over,
the dreary time was unbroken by a single event, or