s," said the little lady, looking stedfastly in my face, "I feel
quite certain you would. But," she added, as her own brightened with a
smile, "you must now fulfil your first promise to me, and find my
father, for I am so tired, I must rest here a little longer."

"Very well," I replied; "but how I should like to talk with you here
all night! Do not go away until I return."

I now hurried away in search of her father, who, after many inquiries,
was pointed out to me by Chrichton, though in a very inaccessible
position; for he was standing with other important personages, among
whom I could discern the Duke, by the side of her Majesty's
poney-phaeton.

"Do, Chrichton," I begged--"do go up to Sir George Curzon for me; you
are more used to that sort of thing than I."

All my eloquence being thrown away upon him, and on that instant
thinking of my little lady in the grove, I walked towards the group
with my hat in my hand, without further hesitation.

"If you please, Sir George Curzon, there is a young lady in the
shrubberies who wants you."

"I think, young sir," replied Sir George, "you must make a mistake."

"No, sir. She has lost you, she says; it is Miss Curzon."

"Dear me! I thought she had been all this while with her aunt. Where
is she?"

"A little beyond that temple on the hill, there," I replied, pointing
with my hat.

"You need hardly go all that way yourself," said the Duke, observing
Sir George about to follow me; "the boy can show her here very well."

"Yes, Sir George," added her Majesty; "let the little boy run and
bring her."

"Well, then, my little gentleman," asked Sir George, "may I ask you to
do so?"

"Oh, yes, Sir," I replied, and I was off on my way towards her in a
moment.

"I have found your father. Miss Curzon," said I on my return, "and he
has asked me to lead you to him. I hope I have not been long."

"I am sorry you should have had so much trouble," she answered, as she
took my arm; "but we must now make haste, for it is getting quite
late, and I know papa wishes to go part of the way home to-night."

"Do you live far from here, then?" I rather pointedly inquired.

"Oh, yes--I don't know how many miles--all the way down in Cheshire;
we took this place in our road from town."

"Well, then, Miss Curzon," I said, as we approached her father, "I
wonder if ever we shall meet again! You cannot think how I hope we
may; but now good bye, and----"

"You need not leave me quite ye