That Mr. Edwin Barley! My imagination had been setting the face down for a robber's at least; and the thought flashed over me—How could Selina have married him? Another thought came with it—Had he been the intruder at the door? "Who is that, Selina?" he asked, in a very strong, determined voice, but not an unpleasing one. "Anne Hereford. Fancy my making so stupid a mistake as to conclude it was next Thursday the lawyer meant. And she has had to find her way from Nettleby in the best way she could." He looked at me with his black eyes, the blackest eyes I had ever seen. Either they wore a warning expression, or I fancied so, and I took it to mean I was not to say I saw him watching the house from the avenue. No fear, after that, that I should speak of it. "Did you walk from Nettleby, little one?" "No, sir. I came in the omnibus to the gate." "She has been asking me if you were very handsome and I told her to wait and see," observed Selina, with a laugh, and somehow it grated on my ears. He made no reply in words, but his brow contracted a little. I noticed one thing—that he had very pretty teeth, white and even. "How is it you are home before the others?" she resumed. "And where are they lingering? Charlotte Delves says the dinner is spoiling." "They cannot be far behind," was Mr. Edwin Barley's answer. "I'll go and dress." As he went out of the room we heard sounds of voices and laughter. Selina opened the window, and I stood by her. The night had grown clearer, the moon was bright. Three gentlemen, dressed something like Mr. Edwin Barley, were approaching the house with game, guns, and dogs. "Can you see them by this light, Anne?" "I can see that two are young, and one looks old. He has grey hair." "Not very old, not more than fifty—but he is so stout. It is the parson, Mr. Martin." "Do parsons go out shooting, Selina?" "Only when they can get the chance," she laughed. "That young one is Philip King, a ward of Mr. Edwin Barley's. He and I are not friends at all, and I do what I can to vex him. He is terribly ill-tempered." "Is he!" "He fell in love with me at Easter, the silly boy! Fancy that! One can't think it was in earnest, you know, but it really seemed like it. I asked him if he would like his ears boxed, and Mr. Edwin Barley gave us both a sharp talking-to, saying we ought to be sent to school again." "Both! But if it was not your fault?" "Mr. Edwin Barley said it was my fault," she returned, with a laugh. "Perhaps it was. He has not, as I believe, loved Philip King since." "Who is the other one with them, Selina?" I asked, as the gentlemen below disappeared. "The other is George Heneage—a great friend of mine. Hush! he is coming up." George Heneage entered. A young man, tall, slender, active; with a pale, pleasant face, and dark wavy hair. He had a merry smile, and I thought I had never seen any one so nice-looking. Mrs. Edwin Barley moved to the fire, and he took her hand in greeting.