e been accomplished, but Lady Camper disliked sitting alone
in a room. She was on the square of lawn as the General stole along the
walk. Had she kept her back to him, he might have rounded her like the
shadow of a dial, undetected. She was frightfully acute of hearing. She
turned while he was in the agony of hesitation, in a queer attitude, one
leg on the march, projected by a frenzied tip-toe of the hinder leg,
the very fatallest moment she could possibly have selected for unveiling
him.

Of course there was no choice but to surrender on the spot.

He began to squander his dizzy wits in profuse apologies. Lady Camper
simply spoke of the nice little nest of a garden, smelt the flowers,
accepted a Niel rose and a Rohan, a Cline, a Falcot, and La France.

'A beautiful rose indeed,' she said of the latter, 'only it smells of
macassar oil.'

'Really, it never struck me, I say it never struck me before,' rejoined
the General, smelling it as at a pinch of snuff. 'I was saying, I always
....' And he tacitly, with the absurdest of smiles, begged permission to
leave unterminated a sentence not in itself particularly difficult

'I have a nose,' observed Lady Camper.

Like the nobly-bred person she was, according to General Ople's
version of the interview on his estate, when he stood before her in his
gardening costume, she put him at his ease, or she exerted herself to
do so; and if he underwent considerable anguish, it was the fault of his
excessive scrupulousness regarding dress, propriety, appearance.

He conducted her at her request to the kitchen garden and the handful of
paddock, the stables and coach-house, then back to the lawn.

'It is the home for a young couple,' she said.

'I am no longer young,' the General bowed, with the sigh peculiar to
this confession. 'I say, I am no longer young, but I call the place a
gentlemanly residence. I was saying, I...'

'Yes, yes!' Lady Camper tossed her head, half closing her eyes, with a
contraction of the brows, as if in pain.

He perceived a similar expression whenever he spoke of his residence.

Perhaps it recalled happier days to enter such a nest. Perhaps it had
been such a home for a young couple that she had entered on her marriage
with Sir Scrope Camper, before he inherited his title and estates.

The General was at a loss to conceive what it was.

It recurred at another mention of his idea of the nature of the
residence. It was almost a paroxysm. He determine