Verily, Mrs. Fraudhurst had divined truly. Love's insidious poison had
not yet developed itself in the bosom of either. They returned to the
drawing room, and, after singing together some of their favourite
pieces, they retired for the night.

It was near morning before Carlton fell asleep; even then his brain
continued to be disturbed by exciting dreams. Now leading a charge of
horses or storming some Indian fortress. Finally he dreamed that he had
rescued some Princess or Rajah's daughter from becoming the prey of an
enormous Bengal tiger, the head of which, strange to say, bore a
striking resemblance to Mrs. Fraudhurst; that the Rajah, in return for
his services, gave his daughter to him for a bride; that the marriage
took place at the little church at Vellenaux. He thought that as the
bride approached the altar in gorgeous attire, and was about to place
her hand within his, a seraph-like form glided between them and his hand
was lovingly grasped by Edith Effingham, when all suddenly vanished in a
thunder storm. He awoke with a start and leaped from the bed, for there
was a loud knocking at the door and the voice of the old Butler
exclaiming, "Master Arthur, master Arthur, Miss Edith desires me to say
that she is going to ride over to the Willows this bright morning and
wishes to know if you would like to accompany her; she is now on the
lawn."

"Thank you, thank you, Reynolds. My compliments to Miss Effingham, and
say I shall be most happy to be her escort on the occasion," and
hurriedly dressing, was soon by her side, laughing and chatting merrily
as they cantered over the green turf on their way to the Bartons. Yet
Arthur could not altogether dispel the feelings that arose within him,
produced, doubtless, by the strange dreams that haunted his pillow
during the night, or early that morning.

"Is not that Tom Barton?" said Edith, pointing to the figure of a man,
dressed in sporting costume, seated on the step of a stile, engaged in
lighting a small German pipe, his gun leaning against one of the
uprights and some half dozen partridges lying on the grass at his feet.
As they rode up, Tom advanced to meet them, raised his hat politely to
Edith, and shouted out, "Hallo Arthur, old fellow, how are you. Glad to
have you back amongst us; not much fun in tramping through the turnip
fields alone, although the birds are by no means scarce this season."

"Thank you, I intend to be amongst them, and together, I think we