up the lawn.
I had but a transient glimpse of him: for the moment it stopped, he
sprang out over the side on to the portico steps, and disappeared into
the house.

I now submitted to be dressed for dinner--a duty which Rachel had been
urging upon me for the last twenty minutes; and when that important
business was completed, I repaired to the drawing-room, where I found Mr.
and Miss Wilmot and Milicent Hargrave already assembled. Shortly after,
Lord Lowborough entered, and then Mr. Boarham, who seemed quite willing
to forget and forgive my former conduct, and to hope that a little
conciliation and steady perseverance on his part might yet succeed in
bringing me to reason. While I stood at the window, conversing with
Milicent, he came up to me, and was beginning to talk in nearly his usual
strain, when Mr. Huntingdon entered the room.

'How will he greet me, I wonder?' said my bounding heart; and, instead of
advancing to meet him, I turned to the window to hide or subdue my
emotion. But having saluted his host and hostess, and the rest of the
company, he came to me, ardently squeezed my hand, and murmured he was
glad to see me once again. At that moment dinner was announced: my aunt
desired him to take Miss Hargrave into the dining-room, and odious Mr.
Wilmot, with unspeakable grimaces, offered his arm to me; and I was
condemned to sit between himself and Mr. Boarham. But afterwards, when
we were all again assembled in the drawing-room, I was indemnified for so
much suffering by a few delightful minutes of conversation with Mr.
Huntingdon.

In the course of the evening, Miss Wilmot was called upon to sing and
play for the amusement of the company, and I to exhibit my drawings, and,
though he likes music, and she is an accomplished musician, I think I am
right in affirming, that he paid more attention to my drawings than to
her music.

So far so good;--but hearing him pronounce, sotto voce, but with peculiar
emphasis, concerning one of the pieces, 'This is better than all!'--I
looked up, curious to see which it was, and, to my horror, beheld him
complacently gazing at the back of the picture:--it was his own face that
I had sketched there and forgotten to rub out! To make matters worse, in
the agony of the moment, I attempted to snatch it from his hand; but he
prevented me, and exclaiming, 'No--by George, I'll keep it!' placed it
against his waistcoat and buttoned his coat upon it with a delighted
chuckle.

T