speak; it was of his daughter Eliza. Just as I was
taking leave of the vicar, she entered the room, ready equipped for a
walk.

'I was just coming to see, your sister, Mr. Markham,' said she; 'and so,
if you have no objection, I'll accompany you home. I like company when
I'm walking out--don't you?'

'Yes, when it's agreeable.'

'That of course,' rejoined the young lady, smiling archly.

So we proceeded together.

'Shall I find Rose at home, do you think?' said she, as we closed the
garden gate, and set our faces towards Linden-Car.

'I believe so.'

'I trust I shall, for I've a little bit of news for her--if you haven't
forestalled me.'

'I?'

'Yes: do you know what Mr. Lawrence is gone for?' She looked up
anxiously for my reply.

'Is he gone?' said I; and her face brightened.

'Ah! then he hasn't told you about his sister?'

'What of her?' I demanded in terror, lest some evil should have befallen
her.

'Oh, Mr. Markham, how you blush!' cried she, with a tormenting laugh.
'Ha, ha, you have not forgotten her yet. But you had better be quick
about it, I can tell you, for--alas, alas!--she's going to be married
next Thursday!'

'No, Miss Eliza, that's false.'

'Do you charge me with a falsehood, sir?'

'You are misinformed.'

'Am I? Do you know better, then?'

'I think I do.'

'What makes you look so pale then?' said she, smiling with delight at my
emotion. 'Is it anger at poor me for telling such a fib? Well, I only
"tell the tale as 'twas told to me:" I don't vouch for the truth of it;
but at the same time, I don't see what reason Sarah should have for
deceiving me, or her informant for deceiving her; and that was what she
told me the footman told her:--that Mrs. Huntingdon was going to be
married on Thursday, and Mr. Lawrence was gone to the wedding. She did
tell me the name of the gentleman, but I've forgotten that. Perhaps you
can assist me to remember it. Is there not some one that lives near--or
frequently visits the neighbourhood, that has long been attached to
her?--a Mr.--oh, dear! Mr.--'

'Hargrave?' suggested I, with a bitter smile.

'You're right,' cried she; 'that was the very name.'

'Impossible, Miss Eliza!' I exclaimed, in a tone that made her start.

'Well, you know, that's what they told me,' said she, composedly staring
me in the face. And then she broke out into a long shrill laugh that put
me to my wit's end with fury.

'Really you must excuse me,' cried s