were not at
their usual pitch, and an undefined sense of loss of a safeguard was
coming over her. Moreover, the desire for a last word to Robert was
growing every moment, and he _would_ keep on hunting out those boxes, as
if they mattered to anybody.

She turned round on his substitute, and said, 'I've not spoken to Robin
all this time. No wonder his feathers are ruffled. Make my peace with
him, Phoebe dear.'

On the very platform, in that moment of bustle, Phoebe conscientiously
and reasonably began, 'Will you tell me how much you mean by that?'

'Cilly--King's-cross--1.15,' cried Ratia, snatching at her arm.

'Oh! the slave one is! Next time we meet, Phoebe, the redbreast will be
in a white tie, I shall--'

Hurry and agitation were making her flippant, and Robert was nearer than
she deemed. He was assisting her to her seat, and then held out his
hand, but never raised his eyes. 'Goodbye, Robin,' she said; 'Reason
herself shall meet you at the Holt at Christmas.'

'Good-bye,' he said, but without a word of augury, and loosed her hand.
Her fingers clung one moment, but he drew his away, called 'King's-cross'
to the coachman, and she was whirled off. Angler as she was, she no
longer felt her prey answer her pull. Had the line snapped?

When Owen next appeared in Woolstone-lane he looked fagged and harassed,
but talked of all things in sky, earth, or air, politics, literature, or
gossip, took the bottom of the table, and treated the Parsonses as his
guests. Honora, however, felt that something was amiss; perhaps Lucilla
engaged to Lord William; and when, after luncheon, he followed her to the
cedar room, she began with a desponding 'Well?'

'Well, she is off!'

'Alone with Rashe?'

'Alone with Rashe. Why, Sweet Honey, you look gratified!'

'I had begun to fear some fresh news,' said Honor, smiling with effort.
'I am sure that something is wrong. You do not look well, my dear. How
flushed you are, and your forehead is so hot!' as she put her hand on his
brow.

'Oh, nothing!' he said, caressingly, holding it there. 'I'm glad to have
got away from the castle; Charlie and his set drink an intolerable lot of
wine. I'll not be there again in a hurry.'

'I am glad of that. I wish you had come away with us.'

'I wish to heaven I had!' cried Owen; 'but it could not be helped! So
now for my wild-goose chase. Cross to-morrow night; only you were good
enough to say you would find ways and means.'