They are all grateful to her for the remark, though it is rather a silly one, as there is no particular coincidence in the case. Burgoyne is irritatedly conscious that Amelia is covertly observing him, and before he can check himself he has thrown over his shoulder at her one of those snubbing glances from which, for the last ten days, he has painstakenly and remorsefully refrained. It is not a happy moment to look at poor Amelia, as she has not yet cooled down from the heat of her climb through the fir-wood--a heat that translates itself into patchy flushes all over her face, not sparing even her forehead. Elizabeth is flushed too. She has not met Miss Wilson since she had declined Burgoyne's offer of bringing his betrothed to see her, and in her deprecating eyes there is a guilty and tremulous recollection of this fact. But below the guilt and the deprecation and the tremor, what else is there in Elizabeth's eyes? What of splendid and startling, and that comes but once in a lifetime? Rather than be obliged to give a name to that vague radiance, Jim turns his look back upon his own too glowing dear one. "Did you come here all alone? You two all alone? What fun!" asks Cecilia, with an air of delighted curiosity. Again her companions inwardly thank her. It is the question that both--though with different degrees of eagerness--have been thirsting to ask. "Alone?--oh no!" replies Elizabeth, with that uneasy, frightened look that Burgoyne has always noticed on her face when she has been brought into unwilling relation with strangers. "My mother is here--she came with us; why, where is she?"--looking round with a startled air--"she was here a moment ago." A grim smile curves Jim's mouth. It is evident that the unhappy Mrs. Le Marchant, worn out with her _rôle_ of duenna, has slipped away without being missed by either of her companions. Would they have even discovered her absence but for Cecilia's query? "Mrs. Le Marchant was here a moment ago," echoes Byng, addressing the company generally; "but"--dodging his friend's eyes--"she said she was a little stiff from sitting so long; she must be quite close by." "I will go and look for her," says Elizabeth, confused, and rising from her rickety seat as she speaks; but Amelia, who is nearest to her, puts out a friendly hand in prohibition. "Oh, do not stir!" she cries, smiling kindly and admiringly. "You look so comfortable. Let _me_ go and search for Mrs. Le Marchant; I--I--should be afraid to sit down, I am so hot. I should like to find her; Cecilia will help me, and Mr. Byng will show us the way." It is not always that generous actions meet their meed of gratitude from those for whose sake they are performed; and, though Burgoyne recognises the magnanimity of his _fiancée's_ line of conduct, thankfulness to her for it is not the feeling uppermost in his mind when, a few moments later, he finds himself standing in uneasy _tête-à-tête_ over the seated Elizabeth.