h way to turn
myself."

Arbuthnot went back, and found Sir Magnus quarrelling grievously with
the butler. "I don't think he's doing anything as he shouldn't," the
butler whispered, having seen into his master's mind.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Do let the matter drop," said Lady Mountjoy, who had also seen into her
husband's mind, and saw, moreover, that the butler had done so. "A young
man's dinner isn't worth all this bother."

"I won't let the matter drop. What does he mean when he says that he
isn't doing anything that he shouldn't? I've never said anything about
what he was doing."

"He isn't dressed, Sir Magnus. He finds himself a little better now, and
means to have something up-stairs." Then there came an awful silence,
during which the dinner was eaten. Sir Magnus knew nothing of the truth,
simply suspecting the headache to be a myth. Lady Mountjoy, with a
woman's quickness, thought that there had been some words between
Florence and her late lover, and, as she disliked Florence, was inclined
to throw all the blame upon her. A word had been said to Mrs.
Mountjoy,--"I don't think he'll trouble me any more, mamma,"--which Mrs.
Mountjoy did not quite understand, but which she connected with the
young man's absence. But Florence understood it all, and liked Mr.
Anderson the better. Could it really be that for love of her he would
lose his dinner? Could it be that he was so grievously afflicted at the
loss of a girl's heart? There he was, walking out in the dark and the
cold, half-famished, all because she loved Harry Annesley so well that
there could be no chance for him! Girls believe so little in the truth
of the love of men that any sign of its reality touches them to the
core. Poor Hugh Anderson! A tear came into her eye as she thought that
he was wandering there in the dark, and all for the love of her. The
rest of the dinner passed away in silence, and Sir Magnus hardly became
cordial and communicative with M. Grascour, even under the influence of
his wine.

On the next morning just before lunch Florence was waylaid by Mr.
Anderson as she was passing along one of the passages in the back part
of the house. "Miss Mountjoy," he said, "I want to ask from your great
goodness the indulgence of a few words."

"Certainly."

"Could you come into the garden?"

"If you will give me time to go and change my boots and get a shawl. We
ladies are not ready to go out always, as are you gentlemen."

"Anywher