“Nothing more than usual, only I have made up my mind to go back to Rosham by the five o’clock train, and thought that I would come to see whether you had any message for my mother.” “Oh! I understood that you were not going till Wednesday, when you could have escorted us home. No, I have no particular message, beyond my love. You may tell her that I am getting on very well with my trousseau, and that Edward has given me the loveliest bangle.” “I have to go,” answered Henry: “those confounded farms, as usual,” and he sighed. “Oh! farms,” said Ellen,—“I am sick of farms. I wish that the art of agriculture had never been invented. Thank goodness”—as the electric light sprang out with a sudden glare—“we can see at last. If you have a minute, stop and give me your opinion of this cloak. Taste is one of your redeeming virtues, you know.” “Well, it is about all the time I have,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Where’s the article?” “There, before you, on that young woman.” “Oh!” said Henry, “I see. Charming, I think; but a little long, isn’t it? Now I’m off.” At this moment, for the first time Ellen saw Joan’s face. She recognised her instantly—there was no possibility of mistake in that brilliant and merciless light. And what a despairing face it was! so much so, indeed, that it touched even Ellen’s imagination and moved her to pity. The great brown eyes were opened wide, the lips were set apart and pale, the head was bent forward, and from beneath the rich folds of the velvet cloak the hands were a little lifted, as though in entreaty. In an instant Ellen grasped the facts: Joan Haste had seen Henry, and was about to speak to him. Trying as was the situation, Ellen proved herself its mistress, as she had need to do, for an instinct warned her that if once these two recognised each other incalculable trouble must result. With a sudden movement she threw herself between them. “Very well, dear,” she said: “good-bye. You had better be going, or you will miss the train.” “All right,” answered Henry, “there is no such desperate hurry; let me have another look at the cloak.” “You will have plenty of opportunities of doing that,” Ellen said carelessly; “I have settled to buy it. Why, here comes Emma; I suppose that she is tired of waiting.” Henry turned and began to walk towards the stairs. Joan saw that he was going, and made an involuntary movement as though to follow him, but Ellen was too quick for her. Stepping swiftly to one side, she spoke, or rather whispered into her ear: “Go back: I forbid you!” [Illustration: ] ‘Go back: I forbid you!’ Joan stopped bewildered, and in another moment Henry had spoken some civil words of adieu to Emma and was gone. “Will you be so good as to send the cloak with the other things?” said Ellen to Mr. Waters. “Come, Emma, we must be going, or we shall be late for the ‘at home,’” and, followed by the bowing manager, she left the shop.