of depriving her of the esteem of Mr. Ramsden and the
invaluable friendship of Mr. Samuel Wynne.

"Wouldn't have offended either gentleman for the world," she averred. "I
have always been accustomed to treat both with the most respectful
consideration, and there, owing to you, how they have been used! I shall
not be happy till I have made it up. I never am happy till I am friends
with my neighbours. So to-morrow I must make a pilgrimage to Royd
corn-mill, soothe the miller, and praise the grain; and next day I must
call at De Walden--where I hate to go--and carry in my reticule half an
oatcake to give to Mr. Sam's favourite pointers."

"You know the surest path to the heart of each swain, I doubt not," said
Moore quietly. He looked very content to have at last secured his
present place; but he made no fine speech expressive of gratification,
and offered no apology for the trouble he had given. His phlegm became
him wonderfully. It made him look handsomer, he was so composed; it made
his vicinage pleasant, it was so peace-restoring. You would not have
thought, to look at him, that he was a poor, struggling man seated
beside a rich woman; the calm of equality stilled his aspect; perhaps
that calm, too, reigned in his soul. Now and then, from the way in which
he looked down on Miss Keeldar as he addressed her, you would have
fancied his station towered above hers as much as his stature did.
Almost stern lights sometimes crossed his brow and gleamed in his eyes.
Their conversation had become animated, though it was confined to a low
key; she was urging him with questions--evidently he refused to her
curiosity all the gratification it demanded. She sought his eye once
with hers. You read, in its soft yet eager expression, that it solicited
clearer replies. Moore smiled pleasantly, but his lips continued sealed.
Then she was piqued, and turned away; but he recalled her attention in
two minutes. He seemed making promises, which he soothed her into
accepting in lieu of information.

It appeared that the heat of the room did not suit Miss Helstone. She
grew paler and paler as the process of tea-making was protracted. The
moment thanks were returned she quitted the table, and hastened to
follow her cousin Hortense, who, with Miss Mann, had already sought the
open air. Robert Moore had risen when she did--perhaps he meant to speak
to her; but there was yet a parting word to exchange with Miss Keeldar,
and while it was being utte