t fringe of young verdure and opening flowers--snowdrop,
crocus, even primrose--bloomed in the sunshine under the hot wall of the
factory Moore plucked here and there a blossom and leaf, till he had
collected a little bouquet. He returned to the parlour, pilfered a
thread of silk from his sister's work-basket, tied the flowers, and laid
them on Caroline's desk.

"Now, good-morning."

"Thank you, Robert. It is pretty; it looks, as it lies there, like
sparkles of sunshine and blue sky. Good-morning."

He went to the door, stopped, opened his lips as if to speak, said
nothing, and moved on. He passed through the wicket, and mounted his
horse. In a second he had flung himself from his saddle again,
transferred the reins to Murgatroyd, and re-entered the cottage.

"I forgot my gloves," he said, appearing to take something from the
side-table; then, as an impromptu thought, he remarked, "You have no
binding engagement at home perhaps, Caroline?"

"I never have. Some children's socks, which Mrs. Ramsden has ordered, to
knit for the Jew's basket; but they will keep."

"Jew's basket be--sold! Never was utensil better named. Anything more
Jewish than it--its contents and their prices--cannot be conceived. But
I see something, a very tiny curl, at the corners of your lip, which
tells me that you know its merits as well as I do. Forget the Jew's
basket, then, and spend the day here as a change. Your uncle won't break
his heart at your absence?"

She smiled. "No."

"The old Cossack! I dare say not," muttered Moore.

"Then stay and dine with Hortense; she will be glad of your company. I
shall return in good time. We will have a little reading in the evening.
The moon rises at half-past eight, and I will walk up to the rectory
with you at nine. Do you agree?"

She nodded her head, and her eyes lit up.

Moore lingered yet two minutes. He bent over Caroline's desk and glanced
at her grammar, he fingered her pen, he lifted her bouquet and played
with it; his horse stamped impatient; Fred Murgatroyd hemmed and coughed
at the gate, as if he wondered what in the world his master was doing.
"Good-morning," again said Moore, and finally vanished.

Hortense, coming in ten minutes after, found, to her surprise, that
Caroline had not yet commenced her exercise.

CHAPTER VI.

CORIOLANUS.

Mademoiselle Moore had that morning a somewhat absent-minded pupil.
Caroline forgot, again and again, the explanations which were giv