t, Lady Conway made a descent upon Northwold. Paris had become
so tranquil that she had no hesitation in taking her two elder
daughters to make their promised visit; and such appeals were made to
Louis to join them, that it became more troublesome to refuse than to
comply, and, at the shortest notice, he prepared to set out as the
escort of the Conway family.

'Now for it!' he thought. 'If she be the woman, I cannot fail to find
it out, between the inns and the sights!'

Short as the notice was, the Lady of Eschalott could have wished it
shorter. No sooner had Mr. Delaford set foot in the House Beautiful,
than Mrs. Martha announced to him that he would be happy to hear that
Charlotte Arnold was going to be married to a very respectable young
man, whom she had known all his life, and to whom Mr. Dynevor and Miss
Ponsonby had given an appointment to the gold mines, out of respect for
Lord Fitzjocelyn. Mr. Delaford gravely declared himself glad to hear
it.

But Delaford's purpose in life was, that no maiden should fail of being
smitten with his charms; and he took Charlotte's defection seriously to
heart. His first free moment was devoted to a call in Number 5, but
Charlotte was scouring in the upper regions, and Mrs. Beckett only
treated him to another edition of the gold mines, in which, if they
became silver, the power and grandeur of Mr. Oliver were mightily
magnified. Mr. Delaford thrummed his most doleful tunes on the guitar
that evening, but though the June sun was sinking beauteously,
Charlotte never put her head out. However, the third time, he found
her, and then she was coy and blushing, reserved and distant, and so
much prettier, and more genuine than all his former conquests, that
something beyond vanity became interested.

He courted the muses, and walked in with a pathetic copy of verses,
which, some day or other, might serve to figure in the county
newspaper, complaining of desertion and cruelty.

Charlotte sat at the little round table; Jane was upstairs, and without
her guardian, she felt that she must guard herself. He laid the verses
down before her with a most piteous countenance.

'Please don't, Mr. Delaford,' she said; 'I asked Mrs. Beckett to tell
you--'

'She has transfixed my breast,' was the commencement, and out poured a
speech worthy of any hero of Charlotte's imagination, but it was not
half so pleasant to hear as to dream of, and the utmost she could say
was a reiteration of