liating
tone, "I know better about out-door things than you, and I say it's
necessary to be shut of the Dawsons. Give me power to act in this."

"I will not," said Lionel. "I forbid you to act in it at all, until the
circumstances shall have been inquired into."

He sprung from his horse, flung the bridle to the groom, who was at that
moment coming forward, and strode into the house with the air of a young
chieftain. Certainly Lionel Verner appeared fitted by nature to be the
heir of Verner's Pride.

Rachel Frost, meanwhile, gained the road and took the path to the left
hand; which would lead her to the village. Her thoughts were bent on
many sources, not altogether pleasant, one of which was the annoyance
she had experienced at finding her name coupled with that of the
bailiff's son, Luke Roy. There was no foundation for it. She had
disliked Luke, rather than liked him, her repugnance to him no doubt
arising from the very favour he felt disposed to show to her; and her
account of past matters to the bailiff was in accordance with the facts.
As she walked along, pondering, she became aware that two people were
advancing towards her in the dark twilight. She knew them instantly,
almost by intuition, but they were too much occupied with each other yet
to have noticed her. One was Frederick Massingbird, and the young lady
on his arm was his cousin, Sibylla West, a girl young and fascinating as
was Rachel. Mr. Frederick Massingbird had been suspected of a liking,
more than ordinary, for this young lady; but he had protested in
Rachel's hearing, as in that of others, that his was only cousin's love.
Some impulse prompted Rachel to glide in at a field-gate which she was
then passing, and stand behind the hedge until they should have gone
by. Possibly she did not care to be seen.

It was a still night, and their voices were borne distinctly to Rachel
as they slowly advanced. The first words to reach her came from the
young lady.

"You will be going out after him, Frederick. That will be the next thing
I expect."

"Sibylla," was the answer, and his accents bore that earnest, tender,
confidential tone which of itself alone betrays love, "be you very sure
of one thing: that I go neither there nor elsewhere without taking you."

"Oh, Frederick, is not John enough to go?"

"If I saw a better prospect there than here, I should follow him. After
he has arrived and is settled, he will write and report. My darling, I
am ever