"Would that I might be ever thus afflicted!" he exclaimed impulsively. Then, suddenly becoming conscious of the natural suggestion of his words, he blushed deeply; but not more so than Lottie, who turned away her face to hide her flaming cheeks. He, misinterpreting the act, thought that she meant a hint that such remarks were not agreeable, and was thinking how to remedy what he now regarded as a very foolish speech, when she, with woman's tact, led the conversation to unembarrassing topics, and before they were aware the horse stopped at Mrs. Marchmont's door. Lottie disarmed both suspicion and censure to a considerable extent by saying, "I had promised Mrs. Dlimm to come and see her again, and wished to keep my word. I knew no one would care to go there save Mr. Hemstead, so I took him to see the parson while I visited the parson's wife. I enjoyed my call very much, too; and as Mr. Hemstead and Mr. Dlimm had a great argument over a knotty theological point, I suppose he feels somewhat repaid also." This put matters in quite another light. That one should go to see a parson's wife, and the other to discuss theology with the parson, was very different from stealing off for an indefinite ride with the purpose of being alone together. De Forrest was quite comforted, and was even inclined to regard Lottie as rather considerate in not asking him to accompany her when visiting such undesirable people as the Dlimms. Though why she should wish to visit them herself was a mystery. But then, he thought, "Lottie is odd and full of queer moods and whims. Let her indulge them now, because, as my wife, they will scarcely be the thing." He was still more comforted by noting that she did not have a great deal to say to Hemstead--indeed, that she rather avoided him. "She has had enough, and too much, of his heavy stupid company," he thought, "and finds that even the carrying out of the practical joke is too hard work. If I can only get another good opportunity, I won't wait till she goes to sleep before bringing the question to an issue." But Lottie gave him no opportunity, and, while kind and gentle toward him, adroitly managed that they should never be alone. And Hemstead also, who had found their private tete-a-tetes so delightful and productive of good results, was equally unable to be alone with her. Not that Lottie was averse, but because she saw that lynx-eyed Bel was watching her; and again for the hundredth time she wished her cynical friend back in the city. Lottie's manner and apparent reserve were so marked at one time that Hemstead began to grow troubled, though why he scarcely knew. There was no cause, save the peculiar sensitiveness of one whose sunshine is beginning to come, not from the skies, but from the changing features of a fellow-mortal.