There were some things which even Miss Chatterton's new eye-glasses did not permit her to see, some persons into whose thoughts she was unable to glance, and whose intentions she had utterly mistaken. Her blunder was only the beginning of the little chapter of misunderstandings which commenced on that day, and which might have spoiled the future happiness of several lives. To the astonishment of everybody, Mr. Gilmour arrived at the Park rather late in the day, and quite unexpectedly. The fishing had been unsuccessful, owing to bad weather, heavy rains, and flooded rivers; his friend had been summoned home, and, as only a few days remained of the term of absence originally agreed on, they determined to return together. Uncle Edward, who had stolen away from Rathlands Park to enjoy an interval of refreshment, was dozing in his easy chair at the Priory when Mr. Gilmour was announced. The kind old gentleman's eyes beamed at the sight of his favourite, who began to apologise for having disturbed his nap. "My dear Gilmour, do not say a word; I never was more glad to be aroused from sleep in my life. I was actually dreaming a most unpleasant dream, and I wake to see the man of all others whom I most wished for standing before me. It is absurd for a man at my time of life to be eating at irregular hours in refreshment tents and going in for floral exhibitions; no wonder I had evil dreams. Of course, you have heard what is going on? promised to go back to the Park after a rest, and you shall go with me. I quite reckon on making you acquainted with Mitchelson, who also looks forward to knowing you. We will drive to the gates, and then you shall give me your strong arm to lean on, and tell me what you have been doing with yourself since you left us." Nothing loth, Mr. Gilmour accompanied his old friend and—shall it be said? All the more willingly because, by so doing, he would sooner see again the sweet face towards which his mind's eye had been turning longingly ever since he parted from it at the gate. Elsie was one of the first they met—Elsie and Mr. Mitchelson together. By one of those chances, if we may call them such, that sometimes alter destinies, the giver of the festival was in the act of escorting her to see the contents of a tent which had escaped her notice, and in which were to be found a choice collection of prize cabbages, etc., from cottage gardens. She had been inquiring for these, knowing well that at her next visits to certain of her village friends, she would be catechized by them as to the said cabbages, and expected to speak critically as to their merits. Her bright face was beaming with enjoyment, and Mr. Mitchelson was listening with evident amusement, when Elsie, lifting her eyes, saw before her Douglass Gilmour.