This time he had not long to wait at the Turnpike Gate. It was swung open by a tall, bony, masculine looking woman,--apparently quite a match for the thin, spare Pikeman--who wished him good night in a loud, shrill voice. "Mrs. Marks," thought Charles. "Her voice sounds hoarse, as though she had been pitching into that unfortunate husband of hers pretty considerably. I hope there's no second Mrs. M. to be had, or reserved for me, as Grant half hinted, in some snug corner." As he entered the Lodge gate, he wondered if Miss Neville had joined the guests at dinner; who had taken her in, sat next her, and talked to her; and whether he should find her the centre of an admiring circle, or flirting in some "snuggery," or on the "causeuse," where he had had such a desperate flirtation with his cousin, Frances Strickland, only a year ago. But he had scarcely taken half-a-dozen steps in the Hall, before he saw her standing at the further end, by the large roaring Christmas fire. He crossed at once to where she was; holding out his hand cordially, forgetting in a moment all his savage thoughts and suspicions. "Good evening, Miss Neville. You have not forgotten an old friend?" Amy gave him her hand, but not quite so eagerly as it was clasped in those strong fingers of his. "The sight of the fire is quite cheering. I am half frozen with the cold," continued he, drawing nearer to it. "It is a bleak drive from the station; and I always fancy colder on that road than any other." "I rode it; and should have been warm enough if the frosty roads would have allowed of a gallop. I met Grant, the head Keeper, as I came along, and saw him home; it was too late for him to be out alone, and a price set on his head by those cowardly ruffians, the poachers." "You heard about the fight then. What a sad affair it was from beginning to end. It has made us all nervous and fearful for Grant, as he gave the principal evidence against the unfortunate man who was hung; and they have vowed to be revenged on him; but Mr. Linchmore has doubled the number of Keepers nearly, so we hope that will intimidate them." "I hope it may; and now suppose we talk about something more lively; the dinner for instance. How many people are here?" "About thirty altogether. But they have all left the dining-room now some little time. You are late." "I meant to be. I hate dinners," he said crossly, half inclined to be out of temper again, as of course she must be waiting for somebody out there; otherwise why all alone? "Here Bob," said he aloud, "here's room for you, old fellow; come and warm your toes. He's no beauty, Miss Neville, is he?" and he glanced inquiringly in her face. "Would she think him a horror, as his Cousin Frances had done? "Decidedly not," replied Amy, "but I like dogs."