Ethel's changing colour, her evident pain, were not lost upon him. 'There may be a chance for Cathcart still,' was his next thought; 'women's hearts as well as men are often caught at the rebound; she'll have him out of pique--who knows?' and softened by this latter reflection he threw down his paper, and continued almost graciously-- 'Yes, you may spare yourself that trouble, for I met Miss Lambert myself this afternoon.' 'And you spoke to her?' demanded Ethel, with almost trembling eagerness. 'I spoke to her, of course; we had quite a long talk, till she said the sun was in her eyes, and walked on. She seemed surprised that I had heard the news already, said it was so like Kirkby Stephen gossip, but corroborated it by owning that they were all as much in the dark as we were; but Miss Ellison being such a child, no one had thought of such a thing.' 'Was that all she said? Did she look as well as usual? I have not seen her for nearly a fortnight, you know,' answered Ethel, apologetically. 'I can't say I noticed. Miss Lambert would be a nice-looking woman if she did not dress so dowdily; but she looked worse than ever this morning,' grumbled the Squire, who was a _connoisseur_ in woman's dress, and had eyed Mildred's brown hat and gray gingham with marked disfavour. 'She said the sun made her feel a little faint, and then she sent her love to you and moved away. I think we might as well do the civil and call at the vicarage this afternoon; we shall see the bride-elect herself then,' and Ethel, who dared not refuse, agreed very unwillingly. The visit was a trying ordeal for every one concerned. Polly indeed looked her prettiest, and blushed very becomingly over the Squire's laboured compliments, though, to do him justice, they were less hollow than usual; he was too well pleased at the match not to relapse a little from his frigidity. 'You must convince my daughter--she has chosen to be very sceptical,' he said, with a side-long look at Ethel, who just moved her lips and coloured slightly. She had kissed Polly in her ordinary manner, with no special effusion, and added a quiet word or two, and then she had sat down by Mildred. 'Polly looks very pretty and very happy, does she not?' asked Mildred after a time, lifting her quiet eyes to Ethel. 'I beg your pardon--yes, she looks very nice,' returned Ethel, absently. 'I suppose I ought to say I am glad about this,' she continued with some abruptness as Mildred took up her work again, and sewed with quick even stitches, 'but I cannot; I am sorry, desperately sorry. She is a dear little soul, I know, but all the same I think Dr. Heriot has acted foolishly.' 'My dear Ethel,--hush, they will hear you!' The busy fingers trembled a little, but Mildred did not again raise her eyes. 'I do not care who hears me; he is just like other men. I am disappointed in him; I will have no Mentor now but you, Mildred.'