nce to
guide him in a face that looked like marble.

"I saw three drops of perspiration on his forehead," he said; "and I
knew my own hand was strong."

Lady Catharine was resting on a sofa: she looked tired and paler than
usual, not in the least available for conversation. Miss Raymond had
nestled herself into the recesses of a huge arm-chair close to the
fire--she was as fond of warmth, when she could not get sunshine, as a
tropical bird--and Forrester was lounging on an ottoman behind her, so
that his head almost touched her elbow. When I caught scraps of their
conversation it seemed to be turning on the most ordinary subjects; but
even in these I should have felt lost--I had been so long away from
England--so I contented myself with watching them, and wondering why
discussions as to the merits of operas and inquiries after mutual
acquaintances should make the fair cheeks hang out signals of distress
so often as they did that evening.

I lingered in the smoking-room about midnight for a moment after
Forrester left us.

"So your cousin is really engaged?" I asked Guy.

"_Tout ce qu'il y a du plus fiance_," was the answer. "It was one of the
last affairs of state that my poor aunt concluded before she died. Bruce
is a very good match. I don't think Bella worships him, though I have
scarcely ever seen them together, and I am sure he is not a favorite
with Uncle Henry; but nothing on earth would make him break it off;
indeed, I know no one who would propose such a thing to him--not his
daughter, certainly. There's no such hopeless obstacle as the passive
resistance of a thoroughly lazy man. Good-night, Frank. I've sent the
Baron on for you to-morrow. We must start about nine, mind, for we've
fifteen miles to go to cover."

I went to bed, and dreamed that Raymond was playing _ecarte_ with
Forrester for his daughter, who stood by blushing beautifully--and never
held a trump!

CHAPTER VII.

"She has two eyes so soft and brown;
Take care!
She gives a side glance, and looks down;
Beware! beware!
Trust her not; she is fooling thee."

So the days went on. The stream of visitors usual in a country house
during the hunting season flowed in and out of Kerton Manor without any
remarkable specimen showing itself above the surface. One individual,
perhaps, I ought to except, the curate of the parish, who was a very
constant visitor.

His appearance was n