But Mrs. Duncombe broke in. "Bless me, if there aren't those little dogs of mine! Lena Vivian does spoil them. Send them home, for pity's sake, Bob."

"Poor little kids, they are doing no harm."

"We shall have them tumbling in, and no end of a row! I can't stand a swarm of children after me, and they are making a perfect victim of Lena. Send them home, Bob, or I shall have to do it."

The Captain obeyed somewhat ruefully. "Come, my lads, Bessie says you must go home, and leave Miss Vivian in peace."

"O, Bob, please let us stay; Lena is taking care of us--"

"Indeed I like nothing so well," protested Lenore; but the Captain murmured something about higher powers, and cheerfully saying he would give the boys a run, took each by an unwilling hand, and raced them into a state of frightened jollity by a short cut, by which he was able to dispose of them in the drag.

The Professor, meanwhile, devoted himself to Mrs. Charnock Poynsett, took her chair for a whirl on the ice; described American sleighing parties; talked of his tour in Europe. He was really a clever, observant man, and Cecil had not had any one to talk Italy to her for a long time past, and responded with all her full precision.

The Professor might speak a little through his nose, but she had seldom met any one more polite and accomplished.

Meantime, a quadrille was being got up. Such a performance and such partners had never been seen in light that shone on water or on land, being coupled by their dexterity in the art. They were led off by Mrs. Duncombe and the Reverend James Bindon. Mrs. Tallboys paired with Terry De Lancey, Lady Tyrrell with Herbert Bowater, Lady Rosamond with one of the officers. Tom was pounced on by the great 'Gussy Moy,' who declared, to his bitter wrath, that she preferred little boys, turning her back on Mr. Strangeways and two or three more officers, as she saw them first solicitous to engage Eleonora Vivian--who, however, was to skate with Charlie.

A few wistful glances were cast towards the Wil'sbro' road, for Frank had been obliged by the cruel exigencies of the office to devote this magnificent frosty day to the last agonies of cram.

This, however, had gone on better for the last fortnight--owing, perhaps, to some relaxation of Eleonora's stern guard over her countenance in their few meetings since Jenny's departure.

"And after all," as Charlie said, with the cheeriness of one who has passed his own ordeal, "a man who had taken such a degree as Frank could not depend on a few weeks of mere cramming."

Frank did come speedily up the road just as the quadrille was in full force; and perhaps the hindrance had stood him in good stead; for when the performance ceased in the twilight, and voices were eagerly talking of renewing it as a fackel-tanz in the later evening, and only yielding at the recollection of dinner engagements, it was not Charlie who was taking off Eleonora's skates; and when, after fixing grand plans for the morrow, Lady Tyrrell mounted her pony-carriage and looked for her sister, she heard that Miss Vivian was walking home.

Yes, Miss Vivian was walking home; and there was a companion by her side feeling as if that dark, hard gravelled road were the pebbly beach of Rockpier.

"When do you go to London?" she asked.

"To-morrow afternoon. Wish me well through, Lenore."

"Indeed I do."

"Say it again, Lenore! Give me the elixir that will give me power to conquer everything."

"Don't say such exaggerated things."

"Do you think it is possible to me to exaggerate what a word from you is to me?" said Frank, in a low voice of intense feeling.

"O Frank! it is wiser not to say such things."

"Wise! what is that to me? It is true, and you have known it--and why will you not allow that you do, as in those happy old days--"

"That's what makes me fear. It would be so much better for you if all this had never begun."

"It has begun, then!" murmured Frank, with joy and triumph in the sound. "As long as you allow that, it is enough for me."

"I must! It is true; and truth must be somewhere!" was whispered in a strange, low, resolute whisper.

"True! true that you can feel one particle of the intensity--Oh!

what words can I find to make you understand the glow and tenderness the very thought of you has been!"

"Hush, hush!--pray, Frank. Now, if I do own it--"

"It--what? Let me hear! I'm very stupid, you know!" said Frank, in a voice of exulting comprehension, belying his alleged stupidity.

"What you have been to me--"

"Have been--eh?" said this cruel cross-examiner.

"Do not let us waste time," said Eleonora, in a trembling voice; "you know very well."

"Do I?"

"Now, Frank!"

"If you only knew what it would be worth to me to hear you say it!"

"I'm afraid it would be only worth pain and grief to you, and anger from every one," said she, in a low dejected voice, "far more than I am worth."

"You? Trust me to judge of that, Lenore. Would not you be worth all, and more than all, that flesh or spirit could feel! I could face it all for one look from you!" said Frank, with fervour from his heart of hearts.

"You make me more and more afraid. It is all too wretched to lead any one into. Since I knew the whole truth, I have tried to spare you from it."

"That is why you have been so cold, and held so cruelly aloof all this time, so that if I had not caught one ray now and then, you would have broken my heart, Lenore; as it is, I've been wretched beyond description, hardly able to sleep by night or speak rationally by day. How had you the heart to serve me so, like a stony Greek statue?"

"I thought it must be right. It seemed to break my own heart too."

"That's the woman's way of showing a thing is right; but why I can't see. If you did hate me, it might be all very well to throw me over; but if not, why torture two as well as one? Are you afraid of my people? I'll manage them."

"You little know--"

"Know what?"

"All that made it cruel in Camilla to throw us together."

"Cruel! when it was the crowning joy of my past life, and is to be the crowning joy of the future?"

"How can it? Frank, you must know the causes your mother has for abhorring any connection with our unhappy family."

"My mother has too much sense to think a little extravagance among the men of a family can affect the daughters. I know the outer world is afraid of her, but she is the tenderest and most indulgent of mothers to us. No fear of her!"

"Ah! but that's not all."

"You mean that she has not taken much to your sister. I know; and I'm very sorry; but bring them together, and it would soon be got over. Besides, it is not your sister, but you. What do you mean?"

rather disconcerted.

"Then you really did not know of the old engagement between Camilla and your eldest brother?"

"Oh, oh! So she consented once! Then she will do so again."