"Return with you! my dear Mr. Aubrey, just consider; it is impossible! You see Miss Cameron's rank of life, her position,--so very strange; no servants of her own here but her woman,--no carriage even! You would not have her travel in a post-chaise such a long journey! Lord Vargrave, you can never consent to that, I am sure?" "Were it only as Miss Cameron's _guardian_," said Lord Vargrave, pointedly, "I should certainly object to such a mode of performing such a journey. Perhaps Mr. Aubrey means to perfect the project by taking two outside places on the top of the coach?" "Pardon me," said the curate, mildly, "but I am not so ignorant of what is due to Miss Cameron as you suppose. Lady Vargrave's carriage, which brought me hither, will be no unsuitable vehicle for Lady Vargrave's daughter; and Miss Cameron is not, I trust, quite so spoiled by all your friendly attentions as to be unable to perform a journey of two days with no other protector than myself." "I forgot Lady Vargrave's carriage,--or rather I was not aware that you had used it, my dear sir," said Mr. Merton. "But you must not blame us, if we are sorry to lose Miss Cameron so suddenly; I was in hopes that _you_ too would stay at least a week with us." The curate bowed at the rector's condescending politeness; and just as he was about to answer, Mrs. Merton put in,-- "And you see I had set my heart on her being Caroline's bridesmaid." Caroline turned pale, and glanced at Vargrave, who appeared solely absorbed in breaking toast into his tea,--a delicacy he had never before been known to favour. There was an awkward pause. The servant opportunely entered with a small parcel of books, a note to Mr. Merton, and that most blessed of all blessed things in the country,--the letter-bag. "What is this?" said the rector, opening his note, while Mrs. Merton unlocked the bag and dispensed the contents: "Left Burleigh for some months, a day or two sooner than he had expected; excuse French leave-taking; return Miss Merton's books, much obliged; gamekeeper has orders to place the Burleigh preserves at my disposal. So we have lost our neighbour!" "Did you not know Mr. Maltravers was gone?" said Caroline. "I heard so from Jenkins last night; he accompanies Mr. Cleveland to Paris." "Indeed!" said Mrs. Merton, opening her eyes. "What could take him to Paris?" "Pleasure, I suppose," answered Caroline. "I'm sure I should rather have wondered what could detain him at Burleigh." Vargrave was all this while breaking open seals and running his eyes over sundry scrawls with the practised rapidity of the man of business; he came to the last letter. His countenance brightened. "Royal invitation, or rather command, to Windsor," he cried. "I am afraid I, too, must leave you, this very day." "Bless me!" exclaimed Mrs. Merton; "is that from the king? Do let me see!"