returning the letter. " I'm delighted—I must go
back and tell them at home. This is fifty times
the chance that mine was. What the deuce do
you mean by abusing Society? Society has
behaved uncommonly well, in my opinion. Where's
Frank?"

"Lurking," said Mr. Clare. " It is one of the
intolerable peculiarities of louts that they always
lurk. I haven't seen my lout this morning. If
you meet with him anywhere, give him a kick,
and say I want him."

Mr. Clare's opinion of his son's habits might
have been expressed more politely, as to form;
but, as to substance, it happened, on that
particular morning, to be perfectly correct. After
leaving Magdalen, Frank had waited in the
shrubbery, at a safe distance, on the chance that
she might detach herself from her sister's
company, and join him again. Mr. Vanstone's
appearance immediately on Norah's departure,
instead of encouraging him to show himself, had
determined him on returning to the cottage. He
walked back discontentedly; and so fell into his
father's clutches, totally unprepared for the pending
announcement, in that formidable quarter, of
his departure for London.

In the mean time, Mr. Vanstone had communicated
his news—in the first place, to Magdalen,
and afterwards, on getting back to the house, to
his wife and Miss Garth. He was too unobservant
a man to notice that Magdalen looked
unaccountably startled, and Miss Garth unaccountably
relieved, by his announcement of Frank's
good fortune. He talked on about it quite
unsuspiciously, until the luncheon-bell rang—
and then, for the first time, he noticed Norah's
absence. She sent a message down stairs, after
they had assembled at the table, to say that a
headache was keeping her in her own room.
When Miss Garth went up shortly afterwards
to communicate the news about Frank, Norah
appeared, strangely enough, to feel very little
relieved by hearing it. Mr. Francis Clare had gone
away on a former occasion (she remarked) and
had come back. He might come back again, and
sooner than they any of them thought for. She
said no more on the subject than this: no reference
escaped her as to what had taken place in the
shrubbery. Her unconquerable reserve seemed
to have strengthened its hold on her since the
outburst of the morning. She met Magdalen
later in the day, as if nothing had happened: no
formal reconciliation took place between them.
It was one of Norah's peculiarities to shrink
from all reconciliations that were openly ratified,
and to take her shy refuge in reconciliations that
were silently implied. Magdalen saw plainly, in
her look and manner, that she had made her first
and last protest. Whether the motive was
pride, or sullenness, or distrust of herself, or
despair of doing good, the result was not to be
mistaken—Norah had resolved on remaining
passive for the future.

Later in the afternoon, Mr. Vanstone
suggested a drive to his eldest daughter, as the best
remedy for her headache. She readily consented
to accompany her father; who, thereupon,
proposed, as usual, that Magdalen should join them.
Magdalen was nowhere to be found. For the
second time that day, she had wandered into the
grounds by herself. On this occasion, Miss
Garth—who, after adopting Norah's opinions,
had passed from the one extreme of overlooking
Frank altogether, to the other extreme of believing
him capable of planning an elopement, at five
minutes' notice volunteered to set forth
immediately, and do her best to find the missing young
lady. After a prolonged absence she returned
unsuccessful—with the strongest persuasion in
her own mind that Magdalen and Frank had
secretly met one another somewhere, but without
having discovered the smallest fragment of
evidence to confirm her suspicions. By this time,
the carriage was at the door, and Mr. Vanstone
was unwilling to wait any longer. He and Norah
drove away together; and Mrs. Vanstone and
Miss Garth sat at home over their work.

In half an hour more, Magdalen composedly
walked into the room. She was pale and
depressed. She received Miss Garth's
remonstrances with a weary inattention; explained
carelessly that she had been wandering in the
wood; took up some books, and put them down
again; sighed impatiently; and went away
upstairs to her own room.

"I think Magdalen is feeling the reaction,
after yesterday," said Mrs. Vanstone, quietly.
"It is just as we thought. Now the theatrical
amusements are all over, she is fretting for
more."

Here was an opportunity of letting in the light
of truth on Mrs. Vanstone's mind, which was too
favourable to be missed. Miss Garth questioned
her conscience, saw her chance, and took it on
the spot.

"You forget," she rejoined, "that a certain
neighbour of ours is going away to-morrow.
Shall I tell you the truth? Magdalen is fretting
over the departure of Francis Clare."

Mrs. Vanstone looked up from her work, with
a gentle smiling surprise.

"Surely not?" she said. "It is natural enough
that Frank should be attracted by Magdalen—
but I can't think that Magdalen returns the
feeling. Frank is so very unlike her; so quiet
and undemonstrative; so dull and helpless, poor
fellow, in some things. He is handsome, I know;
but he is so singularly unlike Magdalen, that I
can't think it possible—I can't indeed."

"My dear good lady!" cried Miss Garth, in
great amazement; " do you really suppose that
people fall in love with each other on account of
similarities in their characters? In the vast
majority of cases, they do just the reverse. Men
marry the very last women, and women the very
last men, whom their friends would think it
possible they could care about. Is there any phrase