he would return to the house again before he went.

Lady Scatcherd then began making apologies for Sir Louis. He was an
invalid; the doctor had been with him all the morning, and he was not
yet out of his room.

These apologies Frank willingly accepted, and then made his way as
he could on to the lawn. A gardener, of whom he inquired, offered to
go with him in pursuit of Miss Thorne. This assistance, however, he
declined, and set forth in quest of her, having learnt what were her
most usual haunts. Nor was he directed wrongly; for after walking
about twenty minutes, he saw through the trees the legs of a donkey
moving on the green-sward, at about two hundred yards from him. On
that donkey doubtless sat Mary Thorne.

The donkey was coming towards him; not exactly in a straight line,
but so much so as to make it impossible that Mary should not see him
if he stood still. He did stand still, and soon emerging from the
trees, Mary saw him all but close to her.

Her heart gave a leap within her, but she was so far mistress of
herself as to repress any visible sign of outward emotion. She did
not fall from her donkey, or scream, or burst into tears. She merely
uttered the words, "Mr Gresham!" in a tone of not unnatural surprise.

"Yes," said he, trying to laugh, but less successful than she had
been in suppressing a show of feeling. "Mr Gresham! I have come over
at last to pay my respects to you. You must have thought me very
uncourteous not to do so before."

This she denied. "She had not," she said, "thought him at all
uncivil. She had come to Boxall Hill to be out of the way; and, of
course, had not expected any such formalities." As she uttered this
she almost blushed at the abrupt truth of what she was saying. But
she was taken so much unawares that she did not know how to make the
truth other than abrupt.

"To be out of the way!" said Frank. "And why should you want to be
out of the way?"

"Oh! there were reasons," said she, laughing. "Perhaps I have
quarrelled dreadfully with my uncle."

Frank at the present moment had not about him a scrap of badinage. He
had not a single easy word at his command. He could not answer her
with anything in guise of a joke; so he walked on, not answering at
all.

"I hope all my friends at Greshamsbury are well," said Mary. "Is
Beatrice quite well?"

"Quite well," said he.

"And Patience?"

"What, Miss Oriel; yes, I believe so. I haven't seen her this day or
two." How w