had bidden him address letters there, but that might be
merely for convenience; perhaps she was not Mrs. Coppinger's guest at
all, but had an abode somewhere in the town. In that case, he must see
her sister--who perhaps, nay, all but certainly, had never heard his
name.

He walked on. The road became a hollow lane, with fern and heather and
gorse intermingled below the thickets on the bank. Another five minutes
would bring him to the top of the hill, to the avenue of trees by which
the house was approached. And the nearer he came, the more awkward
seemed his enterprise. It might have been better to write a note to
Rosamund, announcing his arrival, and asking for an interview. On the
other hand that was a timid proceeding; boldly to present himself
before her would be much more effective. If he could only be sure of
seeing her, and seeing her alone.

For a couple of hours did he loiter irresolutely, ever hoping that
chance might help him. Perhaps, as the afternoon grew cooler, people
might come forth from the house. His patience at length worn out, he
again entered the avenue, half resolved to go up to the door.

All at once he heard voices--the voices of children, and toward him
came two little girls, followed by a young lady. They drew near.
Standing his ground, with muscles tense, Warburton glanced at the young
lady's face, and could not doubt that this was Rosamund's sister; the
features were much less notable than Rosamund's, but their gentle
prettiness made claim of kindred with her. Forthwith he doffed his hat,
and advanced respectfully.

"I think I am speaking to Miss Elvan?"

A nervous smile, a timidly surprised affirmative, put him a little more
at his ease.

"My name is Warburton," he pursued, with the half humorous air of one
who takes a liberty which he feels sure will be pardoned. "I have the
pleasure of knowing your relatives, the Pomfrets, and--"

"Oh, yes, my sister has often spoken of you," said Winifred quickly.
Then, as if afraid that she had committed an indiscretion, she cast
down her eyes and looked embarrassed.

"Your sister is here, I think," fell from Warburton, as he threw a
glance at the two little girls, who had drawn apart.

"Here? Oh, no. Not long ago she thought of coming, but--"

Will stood confounded. All manner of conjectures flashed through his
mind. Rosamund must have broken her journey somewhere. That she had not
left England at all seemed impossible.

"I was mistaken,