"And you did not?" said I, feeling rather mortified that Ephraim should
seem to think more of Hatty than of me.

"No, I did not, Cary," he said, in a changed voice. "You think I am
paying you a poor compliment. Perhaps, some day, you will know better."

"Does anyone in this house know of the rescue plot?"

"Mr Desborough knows that an attempt may be made, but not that you are
in it. Lucette is engaged to keep the coast clear while we get away.
And now, Cary, what say you?"

"Yes, Ephraim, I will do it, though I almost wish it were anything else.
May God help Colonel Keith!"

"Amen, with all my heart!"

We had no opportunity to say more.

So now I wait for next Tuesday, not knowing what it may bring forth.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was about a quarter of an hour before the fated moment, when Miss
Theresa Newton sat down by me.

"Very serious to-night, Miss Caroline!" said she, jestingly.

I thought I had good cause, considering what was about to happen. But I
turned it off as best I could.

"Where is our handsome friend this evening?" said she.

"Have we only one?" replied I.

Miss Newton laughed that musical laugh of hers.

"I should hope we are rather happier. I meant Mr Hebblethwaite--
horrible name!"

"I saw him a little while ago," said I, wondering if he were then at the
foot of the back-stairs.

"What has become of the Crosslands? Have you any idea? I have not seen
them here now for--ever so long."

"Nor have I. I do not know at all," said I, devoutly hoping that I
never should see them again.

"My sister is perfectly in despair. Her intended never comes to see her
now. I tell her she had better find somebody else. It is too tiresome
to keep on and off with a man in that way. Oh, you don't know anything
about it. Your time has not come yet."

"When it do," said I, "I will either be on or off, if you please. I
should not like to be on and off, by any means."

Miss Newton hid her laughing face behind her fan.

"My dear child, you are so refreshing! Don't change, I beg of you. It
is charming to meet any one like you."

"I thank you for your good opinion," I replied; and, my Aunt Dorothea
just then coming up, I resigned my seat to her, and dropped the
conversation.

For a minute or two I wandered about,--asked Hatty if she were tired
(this was her first evening in the drawing-room with company), and when
she said, "No