s. Vehicles
of all degrees--smart barouche, lengthy britzschka, light gig, dashing
pony-carriage, rattling shanderadan, and gorgeous wagon--were drawn up in
treble file, minus their steeds; the sounds of well-known tunes from the
band were wafted on the wind, and such an air of jocund peace and
festivity pervaded the whole, that for a moment he had a sense of
holiday-making ere he sighed at the shade that he was bringing on that
scene of merriment.

Reaching the barrier, he paid his entrance-money, and desiring the
carriage to wait, walked rapidly down the hill. On one side of the road
was the gradual sweep of open heath, on the other was a rapid slope,
shaded by trees, and covered with fern, growing tall and grand as it
approached the moist ground in the hollow below. Voices made him turn
his head in that direction. Aloof from the rest of the throng he beheld
two figures half-way down the bank, so nearly hidden among the luxuriant,
wing-like fronds of the Osmond royal which they were gathering, that at
first only their hats were discernible--a broad gray one, with drooping
feather, and a light Oxford boating straw hat. The merry ring of the
clear girlish voice, the deep-toned replies, told him more than his first
glance did; and with one inward ejaculation for self-command, he turned
aside to the descent.

The rustling among the copsewood caught the ear of Phoebe, who was the
highest up, and, springing up like a fawn in the covert, she
cried,--'Robin! dear Robin! how delicious!' but ere she had made three
bounds towards him, his face brought her to a pause, and, in an
awe-struck voice, she asked, 'Robert, what is it?'

'It does not concern you, dearest; at least, I hope not. I want Owen
Sandbrook.'

'Then it is _she_. O Robin, can you bear it?' she whispered, clinging to
him, terrified by the agitated fondness of his embrace.

'I know nothing of _her_,' was his answer, interrupted by Owen, who,
raising his handsome, ruddy face from beneath, shouted mirthfully--

'Ha! Phoebe, what interloper have you caught? What, Fulmort, not quite
grilled in the Wulstonian oven?'

'I was in search of you. Wait there, Phoebe,' said Robert, advancing to
meet Owen, with a gravity of countenance that provoked an impatient
gesture, and the question--

'Come, have it out! Do you mean that you have been ferreting out some
old scrape of mine?'

'I mean,' said Robert, looking steadily at him, 'that I have been called
in t