After dinner--our housekeeping was now much improved and, indeed, quite stylish--Mr. Edward Thornton and Mrs. Langton vanished, and I remained with Mrs. Brand, who entertained me, for some time, with the many virtues of her brother. "A most excellent brother he had ever been to her; and since he had come into the Wyndham property, she could say that Poplar Lodge had been as much her home as his--a fact which proved there was nothing like the ties of blood, for Mr. Brand, she was very sorry to say, had not behaved at all delicately; and, satisfied with leaving her a few paltry hundreds a-year, had actually bequeathed to his daughter that delightful Holywell Lodge--a most exquisite place--to which he well knew that she had a particular fancy, not because it was beautiful--she was essentially a person of simple, unsophisticated tastes--but her heart was bound to Holywell. She had spent her honeymoon there, and she was astonished that had not proved a consideration with Mr. Brand." We sat by the window. The trunks of the trees in the park shone warm and red with the light of the setting sun. I wanted to be off, and said carelessly: "What a delightful walk Mrs. Langton and Mr. Thornton are now having!" Mrs. Brand started. "My dear," she said, quickly, "you do not mean--Edith is in her own room surely." "I saw her and Mr. Thornton disappearing behind that clamp of trees." "Imprudent!" exclaimed Mrs. Brand, looking fidgetty. "She takes cold so easy. I must really go after her." She rose, left the room, and hurried off, at once, in the direction I had pointed out. I waited awhile, then slipped out. My way lay exactly opposite to hers. I kept within the shelter of the trees. In a few minutes, I had reached the well; but, to my dismay, I perceived standing by it, and talking quietly together, the objects of Mrs. Brand's search. They stood with their backs turned to me. I sank down, at once, in the high ferns, which closed over me. I knelt stooping, and every now and then cautiously raised my head to look. They lingered awhile longer, then left. When they were out of sight, I sat up, shaking from my loosened hair the dried fern and withered leaves with which it had got entangled. Startled by a low sound near me, I looked round quickly. A few paces from me, the ferns began to move, then a man's arm divided them, and, in the opening appeared the handsome and laughing face of Cornelius. He half sat up, leaning on one elbow, and looked at me, smiling. "Are they gone?" he whispered. I gave a hasty glance around. The sun had nearly set. In its warm and mellow glow, the park looked silent and lonely. Over all things already brooded the stillness of evening. "It's all right," I said, jumping up. "Cornelius, you are tall, and could be seen a good distance, so please to be quiet." "You don't mean to say that I am to remain here on my back?" he asked, indignantly. "I mean that, if you get up, I shall take flight."