Sad, kind, and loving, but never irritable, Severne smoothed down and soothed and comforted the wounded girl; and, seeing her two or three times a day--for she was completely mistress of her time--got her completely into his power again. Uxmoor did not reply. She had made her selection. Love beckoned forward. It was useless to look back. Love was omnipotent. They both began to recover their good looks as if by magic; and as Severne's passion, though wicked, was earnest, no poor bird was ever more completely entangled by bird-lime than Zoe was caught by Edward Severne. Their usual place of meeting was the shrubbery attached to Somerville Villa. The trees, being young, made all the closer shade, and the gravel-walk meandered, and shut them out from view. Severne used to enter this shrubbery by a little gate leading from the meadow, and wait under the trees till Zoe came to him. Vizard's advertisements alarmed him, and he used to see the coast clear before he entered the shrubbery, and also before he left it. He was so particular in this that, observing one day an old man doddering about with a basket, he would not go in till he had taken a look at him. He found it was an ancient white-haired villager gathering mushrooms. The old fellow was so stiff, and his hand so trembling, that it took him about a minute to gather a single fungus. To give a reason for coming up to him, Severne said, “How old are you, old man?” “I be ninety, measter, next Martinmas-day.” “Only ninety?” said our Adonis, contemptuously; “you look a hundred and ninety.” He would have been less contemptuous had he known that the mushrooms were all toad-stools, and the village centenaire was Mr. Joseph Ashmead, resuming his original arts, and playing Grandfather Whitehead on the green grass. CHAPTER XXV. MADEMOISELLE KLOSKING told Vizard the time drew near when she must leave his hospitable house. “Say a month hence,” said he. She shook her head. “Of course you will not stay to gratify me,” said he, half sadly, half bitterly. “But you will have to stay a week or two longer _par ordonnance du me'decin.”_ “My physician is reconciled to my going. We must all bow to necessity.” This was said too firmly to admit a reply. “The old house will seem very dark again whenever you do go,” said Vizard, plaintively. “It will soon be brightened by her who is its true and lasting light,” was the steady reply. A day or two passed with nothing to record, except that Vizard hung about Ina Klosking, and became, if possible, more enamored of her and more unwilling to part with her. Mr. Ashmead arrived one afternoon about three o'clock, and was more than an hour with her. They conversed very earnestly, and when he went, Miss Gale found her agitated. “This will not do,” said she. “It will pass, my friend,” said Ina. “I will sleep.” She laid herself down and slept three hours before dinner.