st not be left alone when she hears this."

He looked down--Ethel had the resolution to walk away. Flora could not
give up the ball, and Meta found that she must go; but both the Normans
spent a quiet evening with Dr. May and Ethel. Norman May had a bad
headache, which he was allowed to have justly earned; Dr. May was very
happy reviving all his Scottish recollections, and talking to young
Ogilvie about Edinburgh. Once, there was a private consultation. Ethel
was provoked and ashamed at the throbs that it would excite. What! on a
week's acquaintance?

When alone with her father, she began to nerve herself for something
heroic, and great was her shame when she heard only of her cousin's kind
consideration for her brother, whom he wished to take home with him, and
thence to see the Highlands, so as to divert his anxiety for Harry, as
well as to call him off from the studies with which he had this term
overworked himself even more than usual. Dr. May had given most grateful
consent, and he spoke highly in praise of the youth; but there was no
more to come, and Ethel could have beaten herself for the moment of
anticipation.

Meta came home, apologising for wakening Ethel; but Ethel had not been
asleep. The ball had not, it seemed, been as charming to her as most
events were, and Ethel heard a sigh as the little lady lay down in her
bed.

Late as it was when she went to rest, Meta rose to see the travellers
off; she sent hosts of messages to her father, and wished she might go
with them. George and Flora were not visible, and Dr. May was leaving
messages for them, and for Norman, in her charge, when the two Balliol
men walked in.

Ethel had hoped it was over, yet she could not be sorry that the two
youths escorted them to the station, and, as Ethel was placed in
the carriage, she believed that she heard something of never
forgetting--happiest week--but in the civilities which the other
occupant of the carriage was offering for the accommodation of their
lesser luggage, she lost the exact words, and the last she heard were,
"Good-bye; I hope you will find letters at home."

CHAPTER X.

True to the kindred points of Heaven and home.
WORDSWORTH.

Etheldred's dream was over. She had wakened to the inside of a
Great Western carriage, her father beside her, and opposite a thin,
foreign-looking gentleman. Her father, to whom her life was to be
devoted! She loo