'Alas! young knight,' she weeping said, 'Condole my wretched fate; A childless mother here you see; A wife without a mate'" VALENTINE AND URSINE. Frances was nervous and anxious for days after her walk with Bertie; the sudden opening of a door made her start and tremble lest it should be some-one come to announce the boy's illness. Sometimes she watched and waited at the window half the morning to catch a glimpse of him going out for his daily walk, or if he did not come would seek him in the nursery, and bring him downstairs. She became Bertie's shadow, and he, in consequence, fonder of her than ever. But the days crept on and there was no symptom that he had taken the fever: so by degrees Frances forgot her fears--or rather they slumbered--and went back to her old ways. But it had become more difficult to deal with Amy now, she appeared to have changed so entirely; there was no making her jealous, even if she could manage to make Robert devote himself half the evening to her hostess. Amy seemed just as happy; she either was not jealous or was jealous and concealed it, and rode with her husband, let who would be of the party, or deserted Bertie and walked with him, even learnt to play billiards when she found Robert was fond of it; so that it was rarely chess now, but all, even Mr. Linchmore, joined of an evening in the former game. Still Robert's love was not what it had been. His wife felt that it was not; he loved her by fits and starts, while some days he was moody and even touchy; but Amy did not despair. How could she when she felt he still loved her? In another fortnight they would be back at Somerton, and away from Frances, who, Amy feared, was fast weaning her boy's as well as her husband's love from her, though how she had managed it she knew not. "I have just been talking with Mr. Grant, your head keeper," said Robert to Mr. Linchmore about a fortnight after the memorable walk to the turnpike, "he tells me the poaching goes on as sharp and fast as ever." "Worse," was the reply, "they are the same set we have always had, that is to say, we suppose so from their cunning and rashness." "You got rid of two or three of them at the Sessions, if you remember, when I was here nearly four years ago." "Yes, but the example does not appear to have done much good." "You want Charley here," said Frances, "to excite you all into going out in a body again and exterminating them. Do you remember your fears, Mrs. Vavasour." Amy looked up to reply, and meeting Frances' gaze, she grew confused and coloured deeply. "I should be more afraid now," said she with an effort at composure. "I was sorry to hear you had never succeeded in tracking that man?" said Vavasour, with his eyes fixed on his wife's now pale face.