By-and-by Jemima came in search of me. Mrs. Edwin Barley was waiting for me to go out in the pony carriage. I washed my face and my red eyes, was dressed, and went down. At the door stood a low open basket-chaise, large and wide, drawn by a pony. Mrs. Edwin Barley was already in it, and Mr. Heneage stood waiting for me. He drove, and I sat on a stool at their feet. We went through green lanes, and over a pleasant common. Not a word was said about the recent quarrel; but part of the time they spoke together in an undertone, and I did not try to hear. We were away about two hours. "You can run about the grounds until your dinner's ready, if you like, Anne," Mrs. Barley said to me when we alighted. "I daresay you feel cramped, sitting so long on that low seat." She went in with Mr. Heneage, the footman saying that some ladies were waiting. I ran away amidst the trees, and presently lost myself. As I stood, wondering which way to take, Mr. Edwin Barley and Philip King came through, arm-in-arm, on their way home, talking together eagerly. I thought Philip King was telling about the quarrel. It was no doubt unfortunate that my acquaintance with Mr. Edwin Barley should have begun with a fright. I was a most impressionable child, and _could not_ get over that first fear. Every time I met him, my heart, as the saying runs, leaped into my mouth. He saw me and spoke. "So you have got back, Anne Hereford?" "Yes, sir," I answered, my lips feeling as if they were glued together. "Where's Mrs. Barley?" "She is gone indoors, sir." "And George Heneage. Where's he?" "He went in also, sir. John said some visitors were waiting to see Mrs. Barley." And to that he made no rejoinder, but went on with Philip King. Nothing more occurred that day to disturb the peace of the house. A gentleman, who called in the afternoon, was invited to dine, and stayed. Mrs. Edwin Barley rang for me as soon as she went up to the drawing-room. I thought how lovely she looked in her black net dress, and with the silver ornaments on her neck and arms. "What did you think of Mr. Philip King's temper this morning, Anne?" she asked, as she stood near the fire and sipped the cup of coffee that John had brought in. "Oh, Selina! I never was so alarmed before." "You little goose! But it was a specimen, was it not, of gentlemanly bearing?" "I think—I mean I thought—that it was not Mr. King who was in fault," I said; not, however, liking to say it. "You thought it was George Heneage, I suppose. Ah! but you don't know all, Anne; the scenes behind the curtain are hidden to you. Philip King has wanted a chastisement this fortnight past; and he got it. Unless he alters his policy, he will get one of a different nature. Mr. Heneage will as surely cane him as that I stand here." "Why do you like Mr. Heneage so much, Selina?"