he mistress. He said nothing more to Clara about
her friends, but he thought of the matter more than once, as he
was going about the place, and became aware that he would like to
ascertain whether there was a mystery, and if so, what was its
nature. He knew that he did not like Mrs. Askerton, and he felt
also that Mrs. Askerton did not like him. This was, as he thought,
unfortunate; for might it not be the case, that in the one matter
which was to him of so much importance, Mrs. Askerton might have
considerable influence over Clara?

During these days nothing special was said between him and Clara. The
last evening passed over without anything to brighten it or to make
it memorable. Mr. Amedroz, in his passive, but gently querulous way,
was sorry that Belton was going to leave him, as his cousin had been
the creation of some new excitement for him, but he said nothing on
the subject; and when the time for going to bed had come, he bade his
guest farewell with some languid allusion to the pleasure which he
would have in seeing him again at Christmas. Belton was to start very
early in the morning,--before six, and of course he was prepared to
take leave also of Clara. But she told him very gently, so gently
that her father did not hear it, that she would be up to give him a
cup of coffee before he went.

"Oh no," he said.

"But I shall. I won't have you go without seeing you out of the
door."

And on the following morning she was up before him. She hardly
understood, herself, why she was doing this. She knew that it should
be her object to avoid any further special conversation on that
subject which they had discussed up among the rocks. She knew that
she could give him no comfort, and that he could give none to her. It
would seem that he was willing to let the remembrance of the scene
pass away, so that it should be as though it had never been; and
surely it was not for her to disturb so salutary an arrangement!
But yet she was up to bid him Godspeed as he went. She could not
bear,--so she excused the matter to herself,--she could not bear to
think that he should regard her as ungrateful. She knew all that he
had done for them. She had perceived that the taking of the land, the
building of the sheds, the life which he had contrived in so short a
time to throw into the old place, had all come from a desire on his
part to do good to those in whose way he stood by family arrangements
made almost before his birth; and