They vowed at that moment an unspoken vow, and parted undoubtingly. ‘Come, dearest sir!’ said Carrie a moment later, when Phil was gone; ‘shall we return to London to-night—you and I?’ ‘There! if you wish to see the last of him,’ said Sebastian. He pointed out to the courtyard, where the ostler had led out Phil’s horse. ‘Lord! what a temper the boy hath!’ said Sebastian, for Phil, without one backward look to the window where Carrie stood, gave a savage lash at the horse, which bounded out through the archway, and swung round the turn that led into the Wynford road with scant direction from its rider. ‘The Lord send him safe at Fairmeadowes,’ said Carrie softly, under her breath. CHAPTER XXIII Carrie and her father found it a little difficult to explain her sudden flight to Lady Mallow; but they patched up some sort of story that held together after a fashion, and before very long her Ladyship had forgotten all about Carrie’s escapade, as she considered it. Carrie meantime had returned to London with her father, and the time passed slowly enough at first. But Carrie had not the nature that broods over the inevitable, and she quieted her heart better than most girls of her age would have done in the same trying circumstances. There were all the cheerful businesses of home to attend to—Carrie was a notable housekeeper,—and these, after the forced idleness and gentility of her stay at Lady Mallow’s, seemed doubly delightful. It was much more agreeable to eat the pasties and cakes of one’s own making, she thought, than those prepared by the most practised cook, and, moreover, there was a new and inspiring thought at work in Carrie’s brain. Some day she would be cooking all these good things for Philip! She did not stop to consider that Phil, like Lady Mallow, had servants to cook for him, so every day she would be trying new dishes, till Sebastian complained that the _cuisine_ was too rich for his simple tastes, and Carrie blushed, and murmured something about her book of recipes. The afternoons, when her father was busy and her housekeeping labours were over for the day, were the longest time to get through. Carrie would take her needlework then and sit by the window, but she found plenty time for thought while she sewed, and her thoughts seemed always to travel in the direction of Wynford. Had Phil gone back to Oxford yet? she wondered; or was it possible he was come to town? When could she see him again? What was he doing? All the ingeniously ridiculous questions and suppositions of lovers passed through her head in these long afternoons of sewing. In the evenings Sebastian would take her out to walk or to the play, and Carrie could not be insensible of the admiration she excited in public places. Then summer wore away and winter was come. Carrie indulged in some new and very becoming winter garments, and was more fidgety than was her wont over the fit and the style of them. When these were ready