ack, even after the trumpet began to sound. You must keep blowing
at it, you know. Play all the national tunes you can--no end. They'll
find their way back if you give them time."

And now they all went back to the house, and the Baron in his anxiety
could not talk any more, but began his former occupation of walking up
and down, and fuming and fretting and chafing, and, I'm again afraid,
swearing--when all of a sudden, on the bank in front of him, on the
very top, just emerging from the thick underbrush which had concealed
them till that moment, to their utter amazement and indescribable
delight, they beheld Scone Dacres and Mrs. Willoughby. Scone Dacres
appeared to Hawbury to be in a totally different frame of mind from
that in which he had been when he last saw him; and what perplexed him
most, yea, and absolutely confounded him, was the sight of Scone
Dacres with his demon wife, whom he had been pursuing for the sake of
vengeance, and whose frenzy had been so violent that he himself had
been drawn with him on purpose to try and restrain him. And now what
was the injured husband doing with his demon wife? Doing! why, doing
the impassioned lover most vigorously; sustaining her steps most
tenderly; grasping her hand; pushing aside the bushes; assisting her
down the slope; overwhelming her, in short; hovering round her,
apparently unconscious that there was in all the wide world any other
being than Mrs. Willoughby. And as Hawbury looked upon all this his
eyes dilated and his lips parted involuntarily in utter wonder; and
finally, as Dacres reached the spot, the only greeting which he could
give his friend was,

"By Jove!"

And now, while Mrs. Willoughby and Ethel were embracing with tears of
joy, and overwhelming one another with questions, the Baron sought
information from Dacres.

Dacres then informed him all about Tozer's advent and departure.

"Tozer!" cried the Baron, in intense delight. "Good on his darned old
head! Hurrah for the parson! He shall marry us for this--he, and no
other, by thunder!"

Upon which Mrs. Willoughby and Ethel exchanged glances, but said not a
word. Not they.

But in about five minutes, when Mrs. Willoughby had Ethel apart a
little by herself, she said,

"Oh, Ethel dear, isn't it dreadful?"

"What?" asked Ethel.

"Why, poor Minnie."

"Poor Minnie?"

"Yes. Another horrid man. And he'll be claiming her too. And, oh dear!
what shall I do?"

"Why, you'll have to let her deci