"Well," said Elfrida angrily, when Mr. Browne got back to her, "you think him very brave, of course, but why did he run away like that? You're a most annoying man, anyway." Elfrida made an irritated movement. "I wasn't thinking of Ambert. He's all right."

"Well, I'm not so sure," said Mr. Browne thoughtfully.

"At all events, I don't care whether he is or not!" said Elfrida, with now undissembled wrath. "What I want to know is why Mr. Blount ran away just now. What was the matter with him? What did he expect?" Elfrida made a petulant gesture, and Agatha said gently,—-

"It was the last thing Mr. Blount would have liked to be led into, but I do not think any one could blame him; I am very sorry about it."

"Well, I'm not," said Dillwyn. "If ever a man got his deserts in this life, it was Ambert. And how he took it, too!" He laughed contemptuously. "Not a blow in return."

Elfrida coloured hotly.

"I didn't see. I didn't look," said Agatha. "It was terrible. I hope he wasn't hurt. You saw Lord Ambert going away, Dicky. How did he look?"

Mr. Browne considered, and then gave words to memory. "Like a crushed strawberry," said he, with all the usual grace that belonged to him.

A little silence followed this, and then Elfrida gave way to unmistakable mirth.

Presently she felt a little ashamed, and tried to explain herself away.

"Ah, but you should have seen how Mr. Blount looked!" cried she. This was, however, the openest subterfuge. She certainly had not been thinking of Blount's appearance when she laughed.

She drew Agatha away and laid her hands upon her arms.

"It is all over. It is done. You were right, Agatha. I shall never marry him."

"You mean—Lord Ambert?"

"I mean that beast!" said Elfrida, who seldom studied the delicacies of the language—"that hateful coward!"

"You will break off with him? Elfrida, it will take courage."

"It will not take one moment." said Elfrida. "I shall be home in half an hour; it will take me five seconds to scribble a note, and twenty minutes after that I shall be free again. Free as air!"

"I hope you are in earnest—that you mean it," said Agatha gravely, "because he may make an unpleasantness about it."

"Ah, I'm so afraid he won't," said Elfrida.

Dicky Browne, coming up at this moment with Dillwyn, heard her and understood.

"It was a great run," said Mr. Browne, "and full of pluck—on one side. I'm glad I was in at the death."

He sank upon the mossy bank next to Elfrida, whilst Dillwyn gladly accepted the opportunity to get beside Agatha. Agatha decidedly had the best of it. Mr. Browne was bent on teasing.

"I could see you looking on," said he to Elfrida. "You clapped, didn't you?"

"No," said Elfrida.

Her brows contracted. She felt so sorry for herself.

"Ah, you should," said Mr. Browne; "such a splendid performance. Pit and gallery rose to it."

"Where did you place me?" asked she coldly. "Gallery?"

But here Dillwyn interposed, cutting off Dicky's extremely low joke.

"I tell you what," said the latter, who really had no sense of decent feeling, and was not even now ashamed of himself, "I never felt so cheerful in my life as when Blount floored that fellow. When I saw him lying on the ground in a state of collapse, I fell upon my own neck with delight."

"When you fell on your own neck"—Elfrida suppressed her smile —"did you enjoy it?"

"'Twas poor—'twas very poor," confessed Mr. Browne. "But what was to be done? If you"—he looked at Elfrida—"had been there—I could have had your neck to fall upon."

"Certainly you could not," said Elfrida indignantly.

"What!" Mr. Browne's tone had taken a most reproachful cadence.

"You mean to say you wouldn't have succoured me under such trying circumstances?"

"Under no circumstances."

"Your cruelty lays it all plain," said he. "Surely it was most merciful, considering all things, that I had my own neck to fall back upon."

"I think your own neck must have been greatly surprised," said Elfrida caustically.

"Why?" demanded Mr. Brown, regarding her with severity. "Do you think it was the first time it was subjected to such sweet assaults?"

"What do you mean, Dicky? I am thankful to say that I know very little of you or your neck."

"Then, I'm sorry for you," said Mr. Browne sadly. "You've been done out of a real good thing. I must make it up to you later on."

"Agatha, we ought to find auntie and go home," said Elfrida.

She gave Dicky a short glance, but one full of contempt. It seemed to delight him. She drew Agatha away with her.

"You are still steadfast?" asked Agatha, who was afraid she wasn't.

"Quite—quite." She paused, and then laughed below her breath.

"How could I marry a crushed strawberry?" said she.

Agatha did not answer her, but she felt the frivolous Dicky had his uses.

As they came towards the party in general, they found it already on the move. Ill news flies apace, and some little tidings, some faint echoes in the air, had reached the others.

At all events, Mrs. Greatorex, horrified, was sending in all directions for Agatha. Dr. Darkham was her messenger. These sudden scandals were so disgraceful. Would he go and look for Agatha, he who—-

There was a last moment, however, when Agatha found herself alone with Dillwyn. The short, scrubby bushes were thick in this blessed spot—Dillwyn and Agatha were virtually alone.

"That is all over, I fancy," said Dillwyn, alluding to Elfrida's engagement with Ambert.

"Yes, I think so. I am sure of it."

"The best thing that could happen to her. Love alone makes marriage sacred."

"And as for Ambert—he would not have made her happy."

"I don't believe he could make anybody happy. But don't let us waste our time over him. We have only a moment—When can I see you again?"

"To-morrow. By the river?"

"Yes. At four. Agatha, I hope you know how I feel about all this secrecy—how I detest it. It is always on my mind that our meetings will be discovered, and that on you the annoyance will fall. Every evening I picture you to myself sitting dolefully"— he tried to smile—"whilst Mrs. Greatorex scolds you. I would to Heaven, my darling, I were a rich man—though I never cared for money till I saw you."

"You mustn't expect miracles," said she tenderly; "but somehow I feel sure it will all be right, and very soon, too. Aunt Hilda will give in—she cannot persist much longer—or else something will happen."