"Yes," assented Mr. Reste, as he folded the notes together and placed them in his pocket-book. There were six of them for £10 each. Breakfast over, Katrine set off for Dyke Manor that morning as usual, to talk to Lena in French, and teach her to read it. She stayed luncheon with us. Chancing to say that her father and his guest were gone to Church Leet, Mrs. Todhetley kept her. At four o'clock, when Katrine went home, she found they had returned, and were then shut up in the gun-room. Katrine could hear the hum of their voices, with now and again a burst of merry laughter from Edgar Reste. "Have they had dinner?" she enquired of Joan. "Ay, sure they have, Miss Katrine. They got back at two o'clock, and I prepared the dinner at once." I had lent Katrine that afternoon the "Vicar of Wakefield,"--which she said she had never read; one could hardly believe such a thing of an English girl, but I suppose it was through her having lived over in France. Taking it into the back garden, she sat down on a rustic bench, one or two of which stood about. By-and-by Edgar Reste came out and sat down beside her. "Had you a nice walk to-day?" she asked. "Very," he answered. "What a quaint little village Church Leet is! Hardly to be called a village, though. Leet Hall is a fine old place." "Yes, I have heard so. I have not seen it." "Not seen it! Do you mean to say, Katrine, that you have never been to Church Leet?" "Not yet. Nobody has ever invited me to go, and I cannot walk all that way by myself, you know." He was sitting sideways, his left arm leaning on the elbow of the bench, his kindly, luminous brown eyes fixed on her fair pretty face, all blushes and dimples. Ah, if fortune had but smiled upon him!--if he might but have whispered to this young girl, who had become so dear to him, of the love that filled his whole heart! "Suppose you walk over with me one of these fine days before I leave?" he continued. "It won't be too far for you, will it?" "Oh no. I should like to go." "There is the prettiest churchyard you ever saw, to rest in. And such a quaint little church, covered with ivy. The Rectory, standing by, is quite a grand mansion in comparison with the church." "And the church has a history, I believe." "Ay, as connected with the people of the Hall and the Rectory; and with its own chimes, that never played, I hear, but disaster followed. We will go then, Katrine, some afternoon between now and Saturday." Her face fell; she turned it from him. "_Must_ you leave on Saturday, Edgar?" "My dear little cousin, yes. Cousins in name, you know we are, though not in reality." "You did say you might stay until Monday." "Ay, my will would be good to stay till Monday, and many a Monday after it: but you see, Katrine, I have neglected my work too long, and I cannot break into another week. So you must please make the most of me until Saturday," he added playfully, "when I shall take the evening train."