"Belinda," she said, in an awful undertone, "your niece is out upon the terrace with Mr. Barold. Perhaps it would be as well for you to intimate to her that in England it is not customary--that--Belinda, go and bring her in." Miss Belinda arose, actually looking pale. She had been making such strenuous efforts to converse with Miss Pilcher and Mrs. Burnham, that she had been betrayed into forgetting her charge. She could scarcely believe her ears. She went to the open window, and looked out, and then turned paler than before. "Octavia, my dear," she said faintly. "Francis!" said Lady Theobald, over her shoulder. Mr. Francis Barold turned a rather bored countenance toward them; but it was evidently not Octavia who had bored him. "Octavia," said Miss Belinda, "how imprudent! In that thin dress--the night air! How could you, my dear, how could you?" "Oh! I shall not catch cold," Octavia answered. "I am used to it. I have been out hours and hours, on moonlight nights, at home." But she moved toward them. "You must remember," said Lady Theobald, "that there are many things which may be done in America which would not be safe in England." And she made the remark in an almost sepulchral tone of warning. How Miss Belinda would have supported herself if the coach had not been announced at this juncture, it would be difficult to say. The coach was announced, and they took their departure. Mr. Barold happening to make his adieus at the same time, they were escorted by him down to the vehicle from the Blue Lion. When he had assisted them in, and closed the door, Octavia bent forward, so that the moonlight fell full on her pretty, lace-covered head, and the sparkling drops in her ears. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "if you stay here at all, you must come and see us.--Aunt Belinda, ask him to come and see us." Miss Belinda could scarcely speak. "I shall be most--most happy," she fluttered, "Any--friend of dear Lady Theobald's, of course"-- "Don't forget," said Octavia, waving her hand. The coach moved off, and Miss Belinda sank back into a dark corner. "My dear," she gasped, "what will he think?" Octavia was winding her lace scarf around her throat. "He'll think I want him to call," she said serenely. "And I do." CHAPTER XIII. INTENTIONS. The position in which Lady Theobald found herself placed, after these occurrences, was certainly a difficult and unpleasant one. It was Mr. Francis Barold's caprice, for the time being, to develop an intimacy with Mr. Burmistone. He had, it seemed, chosen to become interested in him during their sojourn at Broadoaks. He had discovered him to be a desirable companion, and a clever, amiable fellow. This much he condescended to explain incidentally to her ladyship's self. "I can't say I expected to meet a nice fellow or a companionable fellow," he remarked, "and I was agreeably surprised to find him both. Never says too much or too little. Never bores a man."