e servant, who
left him standing outside; but returned soon after, to usher him into
the presence of Captain Vanleigh, who smiled and rubbed his hands
softly, as he wished Tiny Rea could have been witness of that which had
been brought to him as news.

Volume 3, Chapter IX.

IN THE WOODS.

The captain would have been more elate if he had been able to follow the
fortunes of Sam Jenkles's cab; for having received his instructions, Sam
bowled along by Euston Square in the direction of the Hampstead Road,
till he had to go at a foot's pace on account of some alteration to the
roadway, the result being that for a few moments the cab was abreast of
a barouche containing four ladies, one of whom started, and said, in a
quick whisper--

"Oh, look, Tiny, that's the church with the figures I told you about."

But Fin Rea was too late, her sister was leaning over the side of the
carriage, gazing intently at Sam Jenkles's cab, and the dark-haired
girl, with the wondrous colour and look of animation, looking so
lovingly in her companion's face; and as the carriage swept on, unseen
by the occupants of the cab, poor Tiny sank back, not fainting, but with
a pitiful sigh and a look of stony despair that made Fin clasp her
hands, as she set her little white teeth together, and muttered--

"The wretch!"

Lady Rea saw nothing of this; but Aunt Matty, who was beside her, did,
and a look of quiet triumph came into her withered features. But
nothing was said, and as for the cab, it rolled on and on quickly, till
it came to the tree-shadowed hill beneath Lady Coutts' park, and then,
after a long walk up to the top of Highgate Hill, on and on again, till
London was far behind, the soft green meads and the sheltered lanes
reached; and while Sam pulled up at a roadside public-house, amongst
half a dozen fragrant, high-laden hay carts, Richard led off his charge,
with sinking heart, over a stile, and away midst waving cornfields,
bright with poppy and bugloss; and by hedges wreathed with great white
convolvuli, and the twining, tendrilled bryonies, or wild clematis.

Richard was grave, and his heart sank as he saw the joyous air of the
young girl by his side, felt the light touch of her little hand, and
when he met her eyes read in them so much gentle, trusting love, that he
felt as if he had been a scoundrel to her, and that he was about to
blight her life.

He was not a vain man, and he had used no arts to gain the sympathy that
it