its place, and the gay
company at the tables laughed and chattered the while with the utmost
vivacity and glee.

For Manners it was a weary time! There appeared to be no end to the
succession of dishes, and he impatiently waited for the time when the
signal would be given which would give him unbounded joy or doom him
to perpetual misery. To him, at least, the time dragged wearily along,
the tunes were lifeless, the courses were inordinately long, and
it was a positive relief to him when Nicholas rose up again and
pronounced a benediction, equally as long and dreary as the opening
grace.

The feast was over now, and as the guests defiled out of the room,
another air took the place of the one just concluded. As for Manners,
all his efforts were concentrated on watching Dorothy's every
movement. He ceased to play, for he had not the heart to continue,
and, without making any pretence to be playing his instrument, he laid
his lute down and watched with eager eyes.

He noticed that his rival sat by her side, nor did she repel him.
When she arose he rose too, and together they started to go out of the
chamber. Dorothy lingered; Stanley lingered too. What, O what could
she be lingering for? In his anxiety Manners stood up to see the
better. His pulse moved in jerks and bounds; his heart rose to his
throat, and he gasped for very breath.

The lively tune pursued the even tenour of its way; the burly form of
the leader screened him well from view, and that functionary was too
much engrossed in the execution of the piece to remark the peculiar
conduct of his companion.

Dorothy lingered to look at the pictures she knew so well; but Sir
Edward tarried at her side. It was evident he was not at all disposed
to leave her, and Dorothy herself at last gave up all hopes of his
doing so.

Sir Edward said something to her, but the noise drowned the sound of
his voice, and Manners could not hear what it was he had said, but the
next moment she permitted Stanley to lead her towards the door.
The poor minstrel's heart sank at the sight. Was this, then, the
fulfilment of Lettice's promise? Had he so misjudged the character
of his beloved? He dismissed the thought, for he could not believe it
even then.

No, it was not so. Dorothy paused and turned back. Manners
involuntarily stood up and followed her with his eyes. Margaret and
her betrothed were behind, and to them she went. His spirits revived
again.

She laughingly raised he