Yes, Mr. Dallas had heard of Poynings; but now he must take his leave. It had long been too dark to look at the pictures, and the young people were standing in the great hall, near the open door, whence they could see the gate and the archway, and a cluster of servants idling about and looking out for the return of the carriage. Clare was suddenly awakened to a remembrance of the lateness of the hour, and at once received her visitor's farewell, gracefully reiterating her assurances that her uncle would gladly make him free of the park for sketching purposes. She would tell Sir Thomas of the pleasant occurrences of the day;--by the by, she had not the pleasure of knowing by what name she should mention him to her uncle. "A very insignificant one, Miss Carruthers. My name is Paul Ward." And so he left her, and, going slowly down the great avenue among the beeches, met a carriage containing a comely, good-humoured lady and an old gentleman, also comely and good-humoured who both bowed and smiled graciously as he lifted his hat to them. "Sir Thomas and my lady, of course," thought George; "a much nicer class of relatives than Capel Carruthers, I should say." He walked briskly towards the town. While he was in Clare's company he had forgotten how hungry he was, but now the remembrance returned with full vigour, and he remembered very clearly how many hours had elapsed since he had eaten. When he came in sight of the railway station, a train was in the act of coming in from London. As he struck into a little by-path leading to the inn, the passengers got out of the carriages, passed through the station gate, and began to straggle up in the same direction. He and they met where the by-path joined the road, and he reached the inn in the company of three of the passengers, who were about to remain at Amherst. Mr. Page was in the hall, and asked George if he would dine. "Dine?" said George. "Certainly. Give me anything you like, so that you don't keep me waiting; that's the chief thing." "It _is_ late, sir, indeed," remarked Mr. Page; "half-past seven, sir." "So late?" said George carelessly, as he turned into the coffee-room. CHAPTER VIII. GLAMOUR.