“Good morning, Mr. Sutherland. I hope you have had a pleasant walk—though I would not be bothered with those troublesome boys, if I were you; their company is quite enough in school hours, I should think!” said the old gentleman, banteringly, as they took their places at the board. Mrs. Vivian and Rosalie smiled a salutation. And then the thread of the conversation was taken up again, as if it had never been broken, and as if Mark Sutherland was already familiar with the premises. “Yes; St. Gerald writes me that the marriage will come off at an early hour of the day, and that immediately after the ceremony they will set out from Washington for this place. It will take them two days to reach here, so that we may expect the party on Thursday evening. Rosalie, my dear, bear that in mind, if you please, and be ready. Mrs. Vivian, my dear lady, I do not want _two_ cups of chocolate at once—this, I think, is intended for Mr. Sutherland!” said the old gentleman, passing the cup to Mark. Mrs. Vivian’s mind was certainly absent and distracted, as her manner was disconcerted, and her beautiful countenance troubled. After breakfast, the family party separated as usual. Colonel Ashley went to his study, to write letters; Mrs. Vivian and Rosalie to their work-table, in the parlour; and Mark to his school-room, with the boys. The ladies had scarcely seated themselves, before a servant entered to say that Mr. Robert Bloomfield had come with the ponies, and wished to know if Miss Rosalie would ride. “Don’t go, Rose; send an excuse. Cut this companionship firmly and kindly off, at once and forever,” said Mrs. Vivian, in a low voice. “Tell him, William, that I am very much obliged for his kindness, but I cannot ride to-day,” said Rosalie, and, as the servant left the room, she added, “That was a very unkind, ungrateful message, mamma.” “Nonsense! What kindness or gratitude do you owe to Robert?” answered the lady, with an apparent harshness of sentiment that her heart did not by any means justify. But, before Rosalie could reply again, Robert Bloomfield entered the room, flushed and in haste; and, without even seeing Mrs. Vivian, hurried up to the young girl, exclaiming—“Rose! Rose! how _is_ this? Three times I have called here, as usual—as a matter of course—to ride with you, and each time I have been met by your servant, and told—I don’t know what, except that I could not see you, Rose. Dear Rosalie, have I offended you in any way? Dear Rosalie, speak to me! Say! Say, are you angry with me?” he persisted, seeing that she did not answer. “Now, what on earth should I be angry with you about, Robert? Of course, I am not angry.” “You are offended with me. You are, I feel you are—I know you are; I see it in your face, Rosalie,” he persisted, gazing on her troubled countenance, and reading, but not aright, its sorrowful expression.