, and it
certainly was true that Miss Stanbury was rather ill about the same
time. "You know, you naughty Lothario, that you did give her some
ground to hope that she might dispose of her unfortunate niece," said
Camilla playfully to her own one, when this illness was discussed
between them. "But you are caught now, and your wings are clipped,
and you are never to be a naughty Lothario again." The clerical
Don Juan bore it all, awkwardly indeed, but with good humour, and
declared that all his troubles of that sort were over, now and for
ever. Nevertheless he did not name the day, and Camilla began to feel
that there might be occasion for a little more of that imperious
roughness which she had at her command.

November was nearly over and nothing had been fixed about the day.
Arabella never condescended to speak to her sister on the subject;
but on more than one occasion made some inquiry of her mother. And
she came to perceive, or to think that she perceived, that her mother
was still anxious on the subject. "I shouldn't wonder if he wasn't
off some day now," she said at last to her mother.

"Don't say anything so dreadful, Bella."

"It would serve Cammy quite right, and it's just what he's likely to
do."

"It would kill me," said the mother.

"I don't know about killing," said Arabella; "it's nothing to what
I've had to go through. I shouldn't pretend to be sorry if he were to
go to Hong-Kong to-morrow."

But Mr. Gibson had no idea of going to Hong-Kong. He was simply
carrying out his little scheme for securing the advantages of a "long
day." He was fully resolved to be married, and was contented to think
that his engagement was the best thing for him. To one or two male
friends he spoke of Camilla as the perfection of female virtue, and
entertained no smallest idea of ultimate escape. But a "long day" is
often a convenience. A bill at three months sits easier on a man than
one at sixty days; and a bill at six months is almost as little of a
burden as no bill at all.

But Camilla was resolved that some day should be fixed. "Thomas," she
said to her lover one morning, as they were walking home together
after service at the cathedral, "isn't this rather a fool's Paradise
of ours?"

"How a fool's Paradise?" asked the happy Thomas.

"What I mean is, dearest, that we ought to fix something. Mamma is
getting uneasy about her own plans."

"In what way, dearest?"

"About a thousand things. She can't arrange any