He took her upon his arm and began to pace the room with her while he explained. There was an attempt at excuse for his prolonged absence--for Val Elster had returned from his duties in Vienna in May, and it was now August, and he had lingered through the intervening time in London, enjoying himself--but that was soon glossed over; and he told her how his brother was coming down on the morrow with a houseful of guests, and he, Val, had offered to go before them with the necessary instructions. He did not say _why_ he had offered to do this; that his debts had become so pressing he was afraid to show himself longer in London. Such facts were not for the ear of that fair girl, who trusted him as the truest man she knew under heaven. "What have you been doing, Anne?" He pointed to the maps, and Miss Ashton laughed. "Mrs. Graves was here yesterday; she is very clever, you know; and when something was being said about the course of ships out of England, I made some dreadful mistakes. She took me up sharply, and papa looked at me sharply--and the result is, I have to do a heap of maps. Please tell me if it's right, Percival?" She held up her pencilled work of the morning. He was laughing. "What mistakes did you make, Anne?" "I am not sure but I said something about an Indiaman, leaving the London Docks, having to pass Scarborough," she returned demurely. "It was quite as bad." "Do you remember, Anne, being punished for persisting, in spite of the slate on the wall and your nursery-governess, that the Mediterranean lay between Scotland and Ireland? Miss Jevons wanted to give you bread and water for three days. How's that prig Graves?" he added rather abruptly. Anne Ashton laughed, blushing slightly. "He is just as you left him; very painstaking and efficient in the parish, and all that, but, oh, so stupid in some things! Is the map right?" "Yes, it's right. I'll help you with the rest. If Dr. Ashton--" "Why, Val! Is it you? I heard Lord Hartledon had come down." Percival Elster turned. A lad of seventeen had come bounding in at the window. It was Dr. Ashton's eldest living son, Arthur. Anne was twenty-one. A son, who would have been nineteen now, had died; and there was another, John, two years younger than Arthur. "How are you, Arthur, boy?" cried Val. "Edward hasn't come. Who told you he had?" "Mother Gum. I have just met her." "She told you wrong. He will be down to-morrow. Is that Dr. Ashton?" Attracted perhaps by the voices, Dr. and Mrs. Ashton, who were then out on the lawn, came round to the window. Percival Elster grasped a hand of each, and after a minute or two's studied coldness, the doctor thawed. It was next to impossible to resist the genial manner, the winning attractions of the young man to his face. But Dr. Ashton could not approve of his line of conduct; and had sore doubts whether he had done right in allowing him to become the betrothed of his dearly-loved daughter. CHAPTER IV. THE COUNTESS-DOWAGER.