"So I have the Camellia at last," thought Mr. Vavasour, "and Miss Neville pinned in the flower I gathered, which she refused to accept; well, strange things happen sometimes; I am certain she never foresaw this." And he too moved away and followed his hostess. CHAPTER X. A PASSING GLANCE. "And what is life?--An hour glass on the run, A mist retreating from the morning sun, A busy, bustling, still-repeated dream, Its length?--A minute's pause, a moment's thought; And happiness?--A bubble on the stream, That, in the act of seizing, shrinks to naught. What is vain hope?--the puffing gale of morn, That robs each flow'ret of its gem,--and dies; A cobweb, hiding disappointment's thorn, Which stings more keenly through the thin disguise." JOHN CLARE. The eight o'clock train came whizzing and puffing into the Standale station; Standale was a large town about ten miles distant from Brampton, and the nearest railway station to the Park. Charles Linchmore had barely time to step on to the platform, ere it was off again and out of sight, puffing as hard and fast as ever. "Tom has sent me a horse?" questioned he of the porter. "Yes, Sir. Waiting for you the last ten minutes, Sir." Charles Linchmore passed out, and was soon wending his way along the road to Brampton Park. The moon had not yet risen, and owing to the slippery state of the roads, on account of the heavy fall of snow and recent frost, he rode on leisurely enough. "Come along, Bob," said he to a shaggy Scotch terrier, who kept close to the hind legs of the horse; "come along, old fellow, I'd give you a run after your pent-up journey, only the roads are so confoundedly slippery, and her majesty is determined to hide herself behind the clouds to-night." The dog wagged his tail as though he understood his master, and kept on as before. He was not much of a companion, but what with an occasional puff at his cigar, and talk to his dog, Charles Linchmore went on comfortably enough. As the smoke curled about his handsome mouth, his thoughts wandered. What were they doing at the Hall? Was Miss Neville still there, or absent as when he last paid his visit? and if there, had any of the numerous visitors found out what a nice girl she was? "Of course they think her pretty, of that there can be no doubt," thought he, "and I dare say she has found it out too by this time, and gives herself airs; unless such an example as my brother's wife before her eyes gives her timely warning, and she steers on another tack. There's no being up to the girls now-a-days; as to prying into their hearts it's impossible, and not to be imagined for a moment; they are growing too deep for us men, and beat us out-and-out in deceit and man[oe]uvring."