And, thereupon, my lady spoke, and told what she had seen; and, although Pringle was not very angry at first, nor did he look upon the affair as anything serious, the campaigner presently persuaded him that it was his duty to speak to his sister. He, of course,--so she explained--could not be aware how a young girl would be talked about if she were allowed _carte blanche_ to flirt with every young man she came across. Poor Lizzie! as if she would have done so--and that it was very unfortunate the poor girl had no mother to warn her, and so on. But it was his duty as her brother, and not only on that account, but as a clergyman also-- so the campaigner put it--to speak earnestly at once, and have the thing broken off. Herbert Pringle promised to do so, and rode home very sadly, for he loved his little sister very much in his way, and hated the business of talking so seriously to her, besides not knowing how to set about it. Let us return to our lovers; our poor tender sheep, into whose fold such a great gaunt wolf had now penetrated. They did not hear the wheels of the old campaigner's chaise as it passed round by the garden wall, nor did they see her grim eyes surveying them above it, and taking notes of their propinquity--not they! When Master Tom committed himself in the way I have hinted at, little Lizzie blushed crimson, and hung down her head so that he could not see her face. "Oh, how could you? How could you?" she stammered out, nearly crying. "Forgive me! I beg your pardon: I could not help it"--and Tom was going to tell his love, and disclose all the feelings that filled his heart, when, at that moment, my Lady Inskip rang the bell to leave her note, as already detailed. Before Tom could catch her so as to hold her, Lizzie darted off, like a startled fawn, towards the house, and the opportunity was lost. The next day she was not in when he called round, and Pringle visited him the day after that, instead of his visiting him; and so, although he was not spoken to, no opportunities were put in the way of their meeting alone. Both Tom and Lizzie were looking forward to the pic-nic with heartfelt longing, for the former, at least, determined to speak then. Oh, Love! Love! When will thy course run smooth? Volume 1, Chapter XII. "THE BEGINNING OF THE END." Markworth's plot was now nearly ripe for execution. When he had been down at The Poplars some weeks now, he said one morning at the breakfast table that he must run up to town for a day or two, as he had some important business to transact; so excusing himself to the Hartshornes, mother and son, the former of whom did not look as if she would break her heart if he never returned, he said he supposed he had better start at once and come down on the next day, Saturday, so as to be in time for the contemplated pic-nic on the following Tuesday, which Tom would not hear of his missing.