They walked down that miserably short avenue, almost in total silence; how many things they would think of to say, _afterwards_. How passionately they would regret this sinful waste of five minutes--precious, golden minutes--but the truth was, they were determined to be very brave, and their hearts were too full to speak. When they came near the gate they halted, for at the gate itself stood Juggy with the key in her hand. She locked and unlocked the entrance to Noone as rigorously as if it were a jail, but if people could go in and out without _her_ help, her occupation and her sixpences would be gone, and Mrs. Redmond winked at the arrangement--as she gave Juggy no wages. “Give me one token, Betty, before I go,” he urged in an eager whisper. “Once you promised me whatever I asked for; give me that little silver brooch you are wearing.” Betty unpinned it hastily, and put it in his hand; a shabby little “Mizpah” brooch! a present from Belle. “Good-bye, God bless you, Betty!” he said in a husky, unsteady voice. She raised her eyes to his, they were dim with tears, but love is easily satisfied, and the farewell look they interchanged, contented them for many a day. They knew that they could trust each other. In another moment he was gone, and the shabby iron gate had clanged behind him. She would catch one last glimpse as he repassed to the train, and--_No_--_no_, she must not cry yet. Leaving her basket under a bush, she raced along by the demesne wall, for fully a quarter of a mile, to where it ended, and gave place to a white paling lined with shrubs, and overshadowed by trees: here she took her station and waited patiently, listening with a beating heart for the rattle of the hack car on the hard, dusty highway. It came at last, nearer and nearer; she would not discover herself, no, she only wanted one last look. He was on the far side, but oh, comfort! Oh, happy moment; he turned and gazed back at Noone, until the car flew round the corner, and carried him finally out of her sight. Yes, he was really gone. Then Betty crept out from the bushes, and sat down upon a log, and to the amazement of her three companions, sobbed aloud. She dared not cry like this indoors, where walls had ears; here the old beeches were her kind sympathetic friends. If she were seen at Noone, indulging in such grief, she would be asked to explain the reason of her tears. But that was her secret, and George’s. CHAPTER VI. “THINE ONLY.” “Infinite riches in a little room.” --MARLOWE. George Holroyd’s departure left an aching void, a desolate blank at Noone. Belle missed him acutely; here was another disappointment, the last and worst! Betty shed secret tears, and even Juggy, at the gate, openly and loudly bemoaned, “that fine open-handed young gentleman.”