te object for her walk he felt convinced, and when, after
hurrying up and down several alleys of the wood, he at length caught
sight of Lady Gernon, he felt no surprise--there was no great feeling of
mad anger in his breast, but something like a bitter sense of
satisfaction, such as might be that of any one who, after a long and
arduous search, comes upon the object of his quest.

He uttered no exclamation, made no excited movement; but, with such a
smile as McCray had described, he stood gazing down a woodland arcade,
to where, some fifty yards in advance--framed, as it were, in the
autumn-tinted leaves--stood Lady Gernon and the man to whom she had
first given her love.

They were, perhaps, a yard apart--Lady Gernon, with her head bent,
resting with one hand against a tree-trunk; Philip Norton--his hands
upon the stick he held--gazing at her, it seemed, sadly and earnestly;
but, as far as Sir Murray could tell, no word was spoken.

The next moment, quietly, and still smiling, Sir Murray slowly advanced
down the arcade, half of which he had traversed before he was perceived;
but even then there was no start--no guilty confusion--only Lady Gernon
turned deadly pale, and a shade of trouble crossed Captain Norton's
face.

Sir Murray, with the same strange smile, advanced to where they stood,
raising his hat in answer to Norton's salute; and then, with the most
courteous air, he said:

"Lady Gernon, you look pale."

"I believe, Sir Murray," said Norton, "Lady Gernon was startled and
troubled at our sudden encounter."

"Exactly," said Sir Murray, quietly.

"You misunderstand me," said Norton, gravely, the shadow deepening upon
his face. "I alluded to her encounter with me. Five minutes since, I
met her by accident."

"Most accurate," said Sir Murray, smiling.

"And after the past--after the misunderstanding between our families,
Sir Murray," continued Norton, not heeding the taunt.

"Exactly?" said Sir Murray.

"I was sorry that the meeting should have taken place. Lady Gernon," he
said, turning to her, as he raised his hat, "I will deliver your
message. It is, I know, both pain and sorrow to dear Ada that you
should be apart. Still, I think it is for the best. Rest assured,
though, that the love you sent her is yours in return. Heaven bless
you! Good-bye, Sir Murray Gernon!" he said, turning to the smiling
baronet--who stood with one hand buried in his breast-pocket--"I am
sorry for the past; but it