ed
her own opinion. They strolled to the end of the short walk in silence,
and Anne said she must go in.

"Am I quite forgiven?" whispered Lord Hartledon, bending his head down to
her.

"I never thought I had very much to forgive," she rejoined, after a
pause.

"My darling! I mean by your father."

"Ah, I don't know. You must talk to him. He knows we have been writing to
each other. I think he means to trust you."

"The best plan will be for you to come soon to Hartledon, Anne. I shall
never go wrong when once you are my wife."

"Do you go so very wrong now?" she asked.

"On my honour, no! You need not doubt me, Anne; now or ever. I have paid
up what I owed, and will take very good care to keep out of trouble for
the future. I incurred debts for others, more than for myself, and have
bought experience dearly. My darling, surely you can trust me now?"

"I always did trust you," she murmured.

He took a long, fervent kiss from her lips, and then led her to the open
lawn and across to the house.

"Ought you to come in, Percival?"

"Certainly. One word, Anne; because I may be speaking to the Rector--I
don't mean to-night. You will make no objection to coming soon to
Hartledon?"

"I can't come, you know, as long as Lady Kirton is its mistress," she
said, half seriously, half jestingly.

He laughed at the notion. Lady Kirton must be going soon of her own
accord; if not, he should have to pluck up courage and give her a hint,
was his answer. At any rate, she'd surely take herself off before
Christmas. The old dowager at Hartledon after he had Anne there! Not if
he knew it, he added, as he went on with her into the presence of Dr. and
Mrs. Ashton. The Rector started from his seat, at once telling him that
he ought not to have come in. Which Val did not see at all, and decidedly
refused to go out again.

Meanwhile the countess-dowager and Maude were wondering what had become
of him. They supposed he was still sitting in the dining-room. The old
dowager fidgeted about, her fingers ominously near the bell. She was
burning to send to him, but hardly knew how he might take the message: it
might be that he would object to leading strings, and her attempt to put
them on would ruin all. But the time went on; grew late; and she was
dying for her tea, which she had chosen should wait also. Maude sat
before the fire in a large chair; her eyes, her hands, her whole air
supremely listless.

"Don't you want tea, Maude?"