table when he dined at home. He thought she was a very good little girl--not so clever as he had expected; but children so often grow up different from their promise--a very good little girl of the old-fashioned type, made to be seen and not heard. He had never been used to her, and did not require his child to sympathise with him or amuse him as some men do--and his mind was full of other things. It did occur to him as the summer went on that she was pale--‘I think you ought to see Maxwell, Cara,’ he said; ‘you are looking very colourless; write a little note, and ask him to come to put you to-rights.’ ‘I am quite well, papa--I don’t want Mr. Maxwell or anyone.’ ‘Well, if you are sure--but you look pale; I will speak to Mrs. Meredith, and see what she thinks.’ Cara felt a sensation of anger at this suggestion. She denied again with much earnestness that there was anything the matter with her--and though the heat of her reply almost roused her father to real consideration, it did not after all go quite so far as that. He went to his library, and she to her drawing-room. The morning was the cheerful time of her day. It was the hour for Oswald, who came in quite pleasantly excited, and told her of the expedition he was going to make into the country on the chance of having an interview and explanation with his Agnes. Cara thought this was a very good thing to do. ‘She ought to know exactly what you feel about her,’ she said; ‘and oh, Oswald, you ought to tell everybody, and make an end of all these mysteries.’ ‘That is one word for her and two for yourself, Cara,’ he said, laughing; ‘you want to be free of me. But no, wait just a little longer. Look here, I will send you the _Vita Nuova_, and there you will see that Dante had a screen to keep people from suspecting that it was Beatrice.’ ‘I will not be your screen,’ said Cara, with energy; ‘it is wicked of you to speak so.’ ‘Why, it is in the _Vita Nuova_!’ said Oswald, with indignant innocence; ‘but never mind, it will be over directly; and you shall come and see her, and help us. My mother must come too.’ ‘I am glad of that. I am sure that Mrs. Meredith would go to-day if you were to ask her.’ ‘Not to-day, let us get our holiday first. I want to see her blush and her surprise as she sees me--but after that you shall see how good and reasonable and correct I shall be.’