efore
making any attempt to re-enter the service,' he says, 'you must keep out
of the way for a while.' And he is right there; the advice is excellent,
and I mean to follow it. In his postscript he adds: 'Thank Grainger'--he
means Miss Grainger, but you know how blunderingly he writes--'for all
her kindness to you, and say how glad we should all be to see her at
Rocksley, whenever she comes next to England.'"

The old lady's face grew crimson; shame at first, and pride afterwards,
overwhelming her. To be called Grainger was to bring her back at once to
the old days of servitude--that dreary life of nursery governess--which
had left its dark shadow on all her later years; while to be the guest
at Rocksley was a triumph she had never imagined in her vainest moments.

"Oh, will you tell him how proud I am of his kind remembrance of me, and
what an honour I should feel it to pay my respects to him?"

"They'll make much of you, I promise you," said Calvert, "when they
catch you at Rocksley, and you'll not get away in a hurry. Now let us
go our separate ways, lest the girls suspect we have been plotting. I'll
take the boat and row down to the steps. Don't forget all I have been
saying," were his last words as the boat moved away.

"I hope I have bound that old fool in heavy recognisances to keep her
tongue quiet; and now for the more difficult task of the young ones,"
said he, as he stretched himself full length in the boat, like one
wearied by some effort that taxed his strength. "I begin to believe
it will be a relief to me to get away from this place!" he muttered to
himself, "though I'd give my right hand to pass the next week here, and
spoil the happiness of those fond lovers. Could I not do it?" Here was a
problem that occupied him till he reached the landing at the villa,
but as he stepped on shore, he cried, "No, this must be the last time I
shall ever mount these steps!"

Calvert passed the day in his room; he had much to think over, and
several letters to write. Though the next step he was to take in life in
all probability involved his whole future career, his mind was diverted
from it by the thought that this was to be his last night at the
villa--the last time he should ever see Florence. "Ay," thought he,
"Loyd will be the occupant of this room in a day or two more. I can
fancy the playful tap at this door, as Milly goes down to breakfast--I
can picture the lazy fool leaning out of that window, gazing at tho