"DEAR MR. HENDERSON: Will you meet me to-morrow in the lane that leads to the West Lodge, at half-past three o'clock? I shall be walking, as I do not wish anyone to know of this appointment, and if I am not there at the time I mention, it will only be that it is absolutely impossible that I can manage to go. In that case I will go on the following afternoon, at the same time. At last I have something to tell you on the subject we talked of before; it is almost a certainty this time. In haste, yours very truly, "R. TEMPLE." She took this letter with her own hands to the nearest village post-office, not caring to place it among the other letters in the post-bag lying on the hall table, and as she was returning from her errand she encountered John Temple on the road, who was also going to the post office. Her face flushed deeply as she met him, and a scarcely repressible feeling of anger rose in her heart; while John Temple, ignorant of the cause, looked at her with his usually pleasant smile. "So you are taking a walk?" he said. She hardly answered him. She was a very passionate woman, and could not hide her feelings. She stood looking at him, burning to accuse him of what she deemed his treachery and deception. "And are you," she said, presently, very bitterly, "carrying a letter to some hidden lady-love; a letter that you do not wish the household to see?" John Temple was conscious that he slightly changed color. "You are always accusing me of something or other," he said. "Perhaps I have good cause," she retorted, with such marked emphasis that John Temple felt somewhat uneasy. "I hope not," he replied; "I have always done my best to avoid offending you." Mrs. Temple deigned to make no reply. She gave a little toss of her head and walked on her way, and John went his, reflecting what a sad thing it was for a woman to have a bad temper! And all the rest of the day it was the same thing. When Mrs. Temple spoke to him at all, it was either in taunting or bitter words. Her husband even noticed this, and asked why she spoke thus to his nephew. "You will soon learn," she answered, and the squire said nothing more. He was accustomed to the changeful temper of his handsome wife, but all the same he was sorry that her manner had changed to John Temple. And the next morning, at breakfast, John noticed how restless she was. There was some disturbing element in her mind he plainly saw, though he had no idea it was caused by himself. He had, as we know, his own anxieties and troubles, but he never dreamed of Mrs. Temple's being connected with them.