ns
would refresh her. Indeed, she felt as if quiet and loneliness
would be intolerable until she could understand herself and what she
had heard.

Raymond took the reins of the barouche, and a gentleman who had
slept at the Hall went on the box beside him, leaving room for
Rosamond and her brother, who were to be picked up at the Rectory;
but when they drew up there, only Rosamond came out in the wonderful
bonnet, just large enough to contain one big water-lily, which
suited well with the sleepy grace of her movements, and the glossy
sheen of her mauve silk.

"Terry is not coming. He has a headache, poor boy," she said, as
Julius shut her into the barouche. "Take care of him and baby."

"Take care of yourself, Madam Madcap," said Julius, with a smile, as
she bent down to give him a parting kiss, with perhaps a little
pleading for forgiveness in it. But instead of, as last year,
shuddering, either at its folly or publicity, Cecil felt a keen pang
of desire for such a look as half rebuked, while it took a loving
farewell of Rosamond. Was Camilla like that statue which the
husband inadvertently espoused with a ring, and which interposed
between him and his wife for ever?

Rosamond talked. She always had a certain embarrassment in tete-a-
tetes with Cecil, and it took form in a flow of words. "Poor Terry!
he turned faint and giddy at breakfast. I thought he had been
indulging at the refreshment-stall, but he says he was saving for a
fine copy of the Faerie Queen that Friskyball told him of at a book-
stall at Backsworth, and existed all day on draughts of water when
his throat grew dry as showman; so I suppose it is only inanition,
coupled with excitement and stuffiness, and that quiet will repair
him. He would not hear of my staying with him."

"I suppose you do not wish to be late?"

"Certainly not," said Rosamond, who, indeed, would have given up
before, save for her bonnet and her principle; and whatever she said
of Lady Rathforlane's easy management of her nurslings, did not
desire to be _too_ many hours absent from her Julia.

"I only want to stay till the Three-year-old Cup has been run for,"
said Cecil. "Mrs. Duncombe would feel it unkind if we did not."

"You look tired," said Rosamond, kindly; "put your feet upon the
front seat--nobody will look. Do you know how much you cleared?"

"Not yet," said Cecil. "I do not know what was made by the raffles.
How I do hate them! Fancy that lovely opa