He had tried in three or four different directions; but, perhaps from being in a satirical mood, he did not see a single face to attract his attention, till, concluding with a grand sweep of the best tier, he suddenly stopped short, kept the glass tightly to his eyes, whisked round swiftly, and sat down; for the field of the glass had for the moment been filled by the figures of Mrs Bray and Sir Philip Vining. "Bai Jove!" muttered Max to himself; and had Charley Vining and Laura been there all the evening, close behind him? They must have been, and be sitting now at the back of the private box. Bai Jove! what should he do? It was horrible to have gone so far--so near--and then to have all spoiled! What an ass he must have been! Laura had said that they were going out; but who would have thought that they were coming here? Max sat rigidly still for the rest of the evening, encouraging Mrs Marter to stay through the ballet; and at last, cautiously peering round, he found, to his great satisfaction, that the private box occupied by the Brays was empty. Ella had not seen who was so near, for she was calm and unmoved. "Bai Jove, what an escape!" thought Max; and a cold chill ran through him--one that would have been more icy, had he known how close they had been to a _rencontre_. But there was still another peril--Charley Vining might be waiting yet, and she would see him! They reached the fly, however, uninterrupted, and Max Bray's spirits rose; but, though he stayed to a late meal--half-tea, half-supper--at Crescent Villas, he was more distant than ever in his behaviour to Ella--so distant, indeed, that Mrs Marter was half-disposed to ask him if Miss Bedford had given him any offence. It was past one when Max departed; and, hardly knowing why, Ella went to her bed that night tearful and sad, little thinking that it was a pillow she would never again press. Volume 3, Chapter XIV. THE BEARER OF TIDINGS.