atingly. She wondered whether Paul would have spoken like that.

"Do you really think you can ride back?" she asked, in a colder tone.

"Certainly," he said; "provided we ride slowly. What can have become of
uncle John and Griggs?"

Uncle John and Griggs were at that moment wondering what had become of
the two young people. We had ridden on to the top of the hill, and had
stopped on reaching the open space near the Khedive's farm, where there
is a beautiful view, and where we expected to find our companions
waiting for us. But we were surprised to see no one there. After a great
deal of hesitation we agreed that John Carvel, who did not know the
forest, should follow the main road down the hill on the other side,
while I rode back over the way we had come. I suspected that Alexander
and Hermione had taken the wrong turn, and I was more anxious about them
than I would show. The forest is indeed said to be safe, but hardly a
year passes without some solitary rider being molested by gypsies or
wandering thieves, if he has ventured too far from the beaten tracks. I
rode as fast as I could, but it was nearly twenty minutes before I
struck into the hollow lane. I found the pair seated on the bank, a mile
further on, and Hermione hailed me with delight. Everything was
explained in a few words. Alexander seemed sufficiently recovered from
his accident to get into the saddle, and we were soon walking our horses
back towards the maidam of Buyukdere. Neither Alexander nor Hermione
talked much by the way, and we were all glad when we reached the tiny
bazaar, and were picking out way over the uneven street, amongst the
coppersmiths, the lounging soldiers, the solemn narghyle smokers, the
kaffejis, the beggars, and the half-naked children.

On that evening, two things occurred which precipitated the course of
events. John Carvel had an interview with Hermione, and I had a most
unlucky idea. John Carvel's mind was disturbed concerning the future of
his only daughter, and though he was not a man who hastily took fright,
his character was such that when once persuaded that things were not as
they should be, he never hesitated as to the course he should pursue.
Accordingly, that night he called Hermione into his study, and
determined to ask her for an explanation. The poor girl was nervous, for
she suspected trouble, and did not see very clearly how it could be
avoided.

"Sit down, Hermy," said John, establishing himself in a deep ch