pathy with sylvan lovers; so if Jack and
Jill were courting, there was no reason why he should not see which Jack
and Jill it was? He would not tell tales, not he.

But when, instead of the expected rustic figures, his starting eyes
beheld Paul Foster and--not Paul's betrothed--not the girl with whom
alone he had a right to wander in that dim solitude at that mystic
hour--but Leonore, Leonore who was nothing, or should have been nothing
to her sister's lover, curiosity gave place to another feeling.

So how? He would spy if he chose.

He would jolly well discover what the devil those two were about? They
were up to no good hiding away by themselves in the woods, and,
damnation! holding each other's hands.

That beast Paul--he had always thought him a beast--no, he hadn't, but
he did now--so he was playing a double game, was he? Engaged to Maud,
and flirting with Leo under the rose?

Leo could flirt, of course; she had made a fool of himself once,--but he
had got it into his head that she rather disliked Paul;--she had never
cracked him up as the rest did,--oh, she was a cunning, crafty little
jade, and he would put a spoke in her wheel, be hanged if he didn't!

The undergrowth was so thick at the point to which Paul had half led,
half dragged his trembling companion at this juncture, that it was easy
for a third person to draw very near unperceived,--and though much that
now passed was unintelligible to one not possessed of the key of the
mystery, Val heard enough.

He did not indeed hear any love-making,--but instinct guided him
straight to the mark which another by reasoning might have failed to
reach. He was as fully convinced that Maud had been supplanted as if he
had heard the fact avowed a hundred times; and though he stole off,
afraid to linger, before Paul's final adjuration which might have
puzzled and mystified him, he had got as much as his brain could carry,
and got it in very good order.

The next day he presented himself at Boldero Abbey. His plan of
campaign, conned over and over with ever-increasing wrath and valour,
was not confided to gran. Gran had never liked Maud, and in old days he
would often affect a hopeless passion for the latter for the sake of
getting amusement out of the old lady. Then an argument would ensue, and
he very nearly felt the passion. He could not see that one Boldero was
not as good as another; and as he could not be bluntly told that Leonore
had money while her sister