"We came from Yorkshire together," he said. Then he began to talk about the election, and in a few minutes a butler announced his dinner, and Annabel's hour was over. She was not disappointed. "We went far enough," she thought. "I am not yet ready to put my hand out further than I can draw it back. I cannot give up Cecil now; he is the only private pleasure I have. Every other thing I share with the Duchess, or somebody else. And Piers I should have to share with her and the Duke. As heir to the dukedom, they will always retain a right in his time and interests. No, Lord Exham, not yet--not yet." She rose with the words, and went to the piano and dashed off in splendid style that famous old military fantasia, "The Battle of Prague." And the drift of her uncontrolled thoughts during it may be guessed by the first query she made of her intelligence when the noisy music ceased:-- "I wonder what the Athelings are doing? Piers says the Squire is at home. I suppose Mrs. Atheling and Kate are coddling, and petting, and feeding him." In some respects Annabel judged fairly well. The Squire reached his home about the same time that Lord Exham arrived at Richmoor House, and found Mrs. Atheling waiting to receive him. He made no secret of his joy in seeing her again. "I was afraid thou mightst be gadding about somewhere, Maude," he said. "It is pleasant to find thee at home." "John Atheling!" "Well, it is too bad to say such a thing, Maude. I knew well I would find thee at home when there was either chance or likelihood of my getting back there. But where is little Kitty? It isn't right without Kitty." "Well, John, Squire Pickering's family came to London a few days ago, and Kitty has gone to the theatre with them." "I'll tell thee a good joke about Squire Pickering, Maude," said the Squire, laughing heartily as he spoke. "He was feared young Sam Pickering was going to vote for Reform, and he served a writ on him for a trespass, or something of that sort, and got him put safely in jail till voting time was over. Then he quashed the writ and let the lad out. But, my word! young Sam is fighting furious, and he has treated his father nearly as bad as Edgar treated me." "Edgar is going to Parliament now. I told thee he would. John, for goodness' sake, don't quarrel with him before all England!" "Maude Atheling! I never quarrelled with Edgar. Never! He quarrelled with me. If he had done his duty by his father, we would have been finger and thumb, buckle and strap, yesterday, and to-day, and to-morrow, and every other day. The Duke says my anger at Edgar is quite reasonable and justifiable." "_The Duke!_ So then thou art framing thy opinions to what _he_ says. Dear me! I wouldn't have believed such a thing could ever come to pass."