h, my boy; old Featherstone has let me out for a fortnight's
run, and I'm going to see what mountain air can do for me.'

'And where are you going now?' asked Mark.

'Now? Well, I _was_ going across to see if the Featherstones would
give me some lunch, but I'm in no hurry. I'll go wherever _you_ want
to go.'

'Thanks,' said Mark, 'but--but I won't take you out of your way.'

'It's not taking me out of my way a bit. I assure you, my boy, and we
haven't had a talk together for ages, so come along.'

'I can't,' said Mark, more uncomfortably still. 'I have some--some
business which I must see to alone.'

'Odd sort of place this for business! No, no, Master Mark, it won't
do; I've got you, and I mean to stick to you; you know what a tactless
beggar I can be when I like. Seriously, do you think I can't see
there's something wrong? I'm hanged if I think it's safe to let you go
about alone while you're looking like this; it isn't any--any hitch at
Kensington Park Gardens, is it?' and there was a real anxiety in his
tone as he asked this.

'No,' said Mark shortly, 'it's not that.'

'Have you got into any trouble, then, any scrape you don't see your
way out of? You might do worse than tell me all about it.'

'There's nothing to tell,' said Mark, goaded past prudence by this
persistence; 'it's only a letter, a rather important letter, which I
brought out here to read quietly.'

'Why the deuce couldn't you say so before?' cried Caffyn. '_I_ won't
interrupt you; read your letter by all means, and I'll walk up and
down here till you're ready for me--only don't make me think _you_
want to cut me; you might wait till you're married for that, and you
ought to know very well (if you don't) why I've been obliged, as it
is, to decline the invitation to the marriage feast.'

Mark saw that for some reason Caffyn did not mean to be shaken off
just then, and, as he could bear the suspense no longer, and knew that
to walk about with Caffyn and talk indifferently of his coming
happiness with that letter unread in his pocket would drive him mad,
he had no choice but to accept the compromise. So he went to the bench
and began to open the letter with trembling hands, while Caffyn paced
up and down at a discreet distance. 'I see what it is now,' he
thought, as he noticed the foreign envelope, 'I'm uncommonly glad I
came up just then. Will he go through with it after this? Will he tell
me anything, I wonder? Very little, I fancy, of what