It was a bright autumnal day, and Hugh and Ethel were returning to the Horton home after a long ride. She had been telling him of Lake Geneva; and he confessed that, notwithstanding his long residence in Chicago, he had never visited that beautiful resort. Once Ethel was tempted to ask him if he were acquainted with Doctor Redfield, but her letter had never been answered, and she refrained from doing so. She had not given up hope, however; but lived on from day to day in the belief that, sooner or later, the man to whom she had completely given her heart would come and claim her. On entering the house, Ethel uttered an exclamation of surprise, as she went forward to welcome a stranger whom her mother was entertaining. Then, turning, she introduced Dr. Lenox Avondale to Hugh. The Englishman bowed indifferently to Stanton, and turned again to Mrs. Horton to finish some remark he had been making. There was a supercilious air about the man which Hugh instinctively disliked. As Hugh took his departure, Ethel followed him to the veranda and insisted that they must have their ride together the next afternoon. Hugh believed her solicitude to be an effort to make amends for the haughty indifference of the Englishman. “Miss Ethel,” said he, “I surrender unconditionally. No, I’ll not say that—it is with this condition; if you are sure that you want me, let me know; but I fancy your time will be entirely taken up during the stay of your English friend.” As Hugh rode thoughtfully homeward, he saw a carriage coming toward him. It was Mrs. Osborn driving over to the Grove. At her salutation he dismounted and stood beside the carriage. “Did you meet Doctor Avondale?” she asked, with an air of triumph playing about her pretty face. “I had that honor,” replied Hugh. Then followed some light conversation, in which Mrs. Osborn tried to be most captivating in her quick repartee. “Are you sure, quite sure, you do not want to ask me a single question?” she interrogated. “Well, I should like to know how long the Englishman is going to remain?” said Hugh, hesitatingly. Mrs. Osborn broke into a silvery laugh, as she replied, “What difference can it make to you? Your regard for Miss Ethel is only of a platonic nature, don’t you know?” “That is very true,” replied Hugh, “I have not changed my mind a particle; nevertheless, a platonic regard may be strong enough to cause one to take a deep interest in one’s friends.” “You are quite clever to put it that way,” said Mrs. Osborn. “I shall try to ascertain, and will let you know just how long Doctor Avondale expects to remain, although you are such a naughty boy I ought not to favor you a particle.” “What have I done?” asked Hugh. “Oh, you neglect your friends so,—unless, perchance, it is your platonic friend, Miss Ethel,” she said, looking archly at him. “I was telling the captain only the other day that we invited you at least a dozen times to our house for every one time you honored it with your presence.”