very warmth of her unbounded faith in him. She would not allow to herself that he did not understand her, that he had failed of what she expected from him. This was honour, no doubt, from his point of view; but she felt a chill sense of loneliness, a loss of that power of falling back upon an unfailing support which she had so fondly and proudly insisted on. She was subdued in her courage and pride and confidence. And yet this was not all that Anne had to go through. It was Mr. Loseby who was the next operator upon her disturbed and awakening thoughts. One wintry afternoon when November had begun, he drove over to Mount in his little phaeton with a blue bag on the seat beside him. ‘Don’t say anything to your master yet, Saymore,’ he said, when he got down, being familiar with all the servants, and the habits of the house, as if it had been his own. ‘Do you think you could manage to get me a few words privately with Miss Anne?’ ‘If I might make bold to ask, sir,’ said Saymore, ‘is it true as there is something up about Miss Anne? Things is said and things is ‘inted, and we’re interested, and we don’t know what to think. Is it along of _that_ gentleman, Mr. Loseby? Master is set against the match, I know as much as that.’ ‘I dare say you’re right,’ said the lawyer. ‘An old family servant like you, Saymore, sees many things that the rest of the world never guess at. Hold your tongue about it, old fellow, that’s all I’ve got to say. And try whether you can bring me to speech of Miss Anne. Don’t let anyone else know. You can manage it, I feel sure.’ ‘I’ll try, sir,’ Saymore said, and he went through the house on tiptoe from room to room, looking for his young mistress, with the air of a conspirator in an opera, doing everything he could to betray himself. When he found her, he stole behind a large screen, and made mysterious gestures which everybody saw. ‘What is it, Saymore?’ asked Anne. Then Saymore pointed downstairs, with jerks over his shoulder, and much movement of his eyebrows. ‘There’s somebody, Miss Anne, as wants a word with you,’ he said, with the deepest meaning. Anne’s heart began to beat. Could it be Cosmo come boldly, in person, to comfort her? She was in the billiard-room with Rose and Heathcote. She put down the cue which she had been using with very little energy or interest, and followed the old man to the hall. ‘Who is it, Saymore?’ she asked tremulously. ‘It’s some one that’s come for your good. I hope you’ll listen to him, Miss Anne, I hope you’ll listen to him.’ Anne’s heart was in her mouth. If he should have come so far to see her, to support her, to make up for the deficiency of his letter! She seemed to tread on air as she went down the long passages. And it was only Mr. Loseby after all!