Returning from the church to the village, Miss Dover lagged behind, and then Severne infused into his voice those tender tones, which give amorous significance to the poorest prose. “What an Arcadia!” said he. “You would not like to be banished to it,” said Zoe, demurely. “That depends,” said he, significantly. Instead of meeting him half way and demanding an explanation, Zoe turned coy and fell to wondering what Fanny was about. “Oh, don't compel her to join us,” said Severne. “She is meditating.” “On what? She is not much given that way.” “On her past sins; and preparing new ones.” “For shame! She is no worse than we are. Do you really admire Islip?” “Indeed I do, if this is Islip?” “It is then; and this cottage with the cluster-rose tree all over the walls is Marks's cottage. We are rather proud of Marks's cottage,” said she, timidly. “It is a bower,” said he, warmly. This encouraged Zoe, and she said, “Is there not a wonderful charm in cottages? I often think I should like to live in Marks's. Have you ever had that feeling?” “Never. But I have it now. I should like to live in it--with you.” Zoe blushed like a rose, but turned it off. “You would soon wish yourself back again at Vizard Court,” said she. “Fanny--Fanny!” and she stood still. Fanny came up. “Well, what is the matter now?” said she, with pert, yet thoroughly apathetic, indifference. “The matter is--extravagances. Here is a man of the world pretending he would like to end his days in Marks's cottage.” “Stop a bit. It was to be with somebody I loved. And wouldn't you, Miss Dover?” “Oh dear, no. We should be sure to quarrel, cooped up in such a mite of a place. No; give me Vizard Court, and plenty of money, and the man of my heart.” “You have not got one, I'm afraid,” said Zoe, “or you would not put him last.” “Why not? when he is of the last importance,” said Fanny, flippantly, and turned the laugh her way. They strolled through the village together, but in the grounds of Vizard Court Fanny fairly gave them the slip. Severne saw his chance, and said, tenderly, “Did you hear what she said about a large house being best for lovers?” “Yes, I heard her,” said Zoe, defensively; “but very likely she did not mean it. That young lady's words are air. She will say one thing one day and another the next.” “I don't know. There is one thing every young lady's mind is made up about, and that is, whether it is to be love or money.” “She was for both, if I remember,” said Zoe, still coldly. “Because she is not in love.” “Well, I really believe she is not--for once.” “There, you see. She is in an unnatural condition.” “For her, very.” “So she is no judge. No; I should prefer Marks's cottage. The smaller the better; because then the woman I love could not ever be far from me.” He lowered his voice, and drove the insidious words into her tender bosom. She began to tremble and heave, and defend herself feebly. “What have I to do with that? You mustn't.”