iage, and in a minute saw it stop
opposite a jeweller's shop. Out came Paula, and then another woman, in
whom he recognized Mrs. Birch, one of the lady's maids at Stancy Castle.
The young man was at Paula's side before she had crossed the pavement.

VI.

A quick arrested expression in her two sapphirine eyes, accompanied by
a little, a very little, blush which loitered long, was all the
outward disturbance that the sight of her lover caused. The habit of
self-repression at any new emotional impact was instinctive with her
always. Somerset could not say more than a word; he looked his intense
solicitude, and Paula spoke.

She declared that this was an unexpected pleasure. Had he arranged
to come on the tenth as she wished? How strange that they should meet
thus!--and yet not strange--the world was so small.

Somerset said that he was coming on the very day she mentioned--that the
appointment gave him infinite gratification, which was quite within the
truth.

'Come into this shop with me,' said Paula, with good-humoured
authoritativeness.

They entered the shop and talked on while she made a small purchase. But
not a word did Paula say of her sudden errand to town.

'I am having an exciting morning,' she said. 'I am going from here to
catch the one-o'clock train to Markton.'

'It is important that you get there this afternoon, I suppose?'

'Yes. You know why?'

'Not at all.'

'The Hunt Ball. It was fixed for the sixth, and this is the sixth. I
thought they might have asked you.'

'No,' said Somerset, a trifle gloomily. 'No, I am not asked. But it is a
great task for you--a long journey and a ball all in one day.'

'Yes: Charlotte said that. But I don't mind it.'

'You are glad you are going. Are you glad?' he said softly.

Her air confessed more than her words. 'I am not so very glad that I am
going to the Hunt Ball,' she replied confidentially.

'Thanks for that,' said he.

She lifted her eyes to his for a moment. Her manner had suddenly become
so nearly the counterpart of that in the tea-house that to suspect any
deterioration of affection in her was no longer generous. It was only as
if a thin layer of recent events had overlaid her memories of him, until
his presence swept them away.

Somerset looked up, and finding the shopman to be still some way off,
he added, 'When will you assure me of something in return for what I
assured you that evening in the rain?'

'Not before you have built th