front door, surrounded by
guests and vehicles. 'I reserve to myself the pleasure of driving Mrs
Mankaster,' (the vicar's wife) for both he and his spouse, a portly
lady, resplendent in stiff brown silk, have been invited to take part in
the outing.

By degrees the carriages are filled and off they go, Lippa finding to
her chagrin that she is seated by Paul in a dog-cart, Jimmy and Lady
Anne behind, Lord Helmdon is on in front with some other people.

'I'm sorry for you,' says Ponsonby, 'but if you wish your secret to be
kept from the others, you must not be seen too much together.'

Lippa sighs.

'So love-sick already,' says he laughing.

'How rude you are, I wasn't sighing a bit, I caught my breath.'

'Oh, I like that,' is the reply.

'I'm sure you can never have,' hesitatingly, 'been in love, have you?'
and she glances up at him. 'I'm so sorry I said that,' she adds,
noticing the pained look that comes into his eyes, and then a silence
ensues.

'Look here, Lippa,' says he at length in rather a lower tone, 'don't you
know, has no one told you that I was married five years ago.'

'Married?' exclaims Miss Seaton in astonishment, 'oh, I'm so sorry I
said that.'

'It does not matter in the least,' he replies, 'but I should think no
one has been more desperately in love than I was once.'

'She, your wife, is dead?' asks Lippa quietly.

'I would to Heaven she were,' is the quick reply. 'No, child, don't
think of me as a lonely widower,' this with a laugh that is hard and
grating, 'I'm worse than that.'

'Poor Paul,' says Lippa gently, while her eyes fill with tears, and she
lays her hand on his unoccupied one, the hard look quits his handsome
face, and he sighs.

'Good little soul,' he says possessing himself of it.

Meanwhile Dalrymple is devoured with curiosity as to what this earnest
conversation can be about. He has listened patiently to Lady Anne, who
has gone through all the books she has read lately, arguing on their
merits and demerits, and now she is enlarging on the degenerating
manners of the rising generation.

Jimmy puts in a 'Yes' or 'No,' or 'I quite agree with you,' every now
and then, but for aught he knows he may be agreeing that red's white,
and white is black. But at last he says something that does not suit
Lady Anne for she says, 'Do you really mean to say you do?'

Jimmy feels caught; what in the name of fortune _does_ he really mean to
say, he has not the faintest idea, so he sa