And why should the world make this dead set at poor Mrs. Peony? She is good-looking, soft-hearted, and unaffected; she laughs when she is pleased, and cries when she is touched. She is altogether frank, and natural, and womanly. Can these be good reasons for running her down? Heavens knows! but run down she is, just as the hypocritical Lady Straitlace is cried up. Well, we must take things as they are and make the best of them. So Frank and I walked on through the pleasant fields in the darkening twilight, and I, for one, enjoyed it excessively, and was quite sorry when a great bell sounding from the house warned us that it was time to return, and that our absence would too surely be the subject of remark should we linger out of doors any longer. I never knew Frank so agreeable; on every topic he was brilliant, and lively, and amusing. Only once, in some casual remark about the future, there was a shade of melancholy in his tone, more like what he used to be formerly. Somehow, I don't think I liked him so well in his best spirits; perhaps I was myself changed in the last few weeks. I used often to think so. At first, during that walk, I feared lest Frank should touch upon a topic which would have been far from unwelcome a short time ago. I soon saw he had not the slightest intention of doing so, and I confess I was immensely relieved. I had dreaded the possibility of being obliged at last to give a decided answer--of having my own fate in my own hands, and feeling totally incapable of choosing for myself. But I might have spared my nerves all such misgivings: my cavalier never gave me an opportunity of even fancying myself in such a dilemma till just as we reached the house, when, espying Mrs. Lumley and Miss Molasses returning from _their_ stroll, he started, coloured up a little, like a guilty man, and acted as though he would have escaped their notice. I was provoked. "Don't desert your colours, Captain Lovell," I said, in a firm voice; "Miss Molasses is looking for you, even now." "Unfeeling," muttered Frank, biting his lip, and looking really annoyed. "O Miss Coventry! O Kate! give me an opportunity of explaining all." "Explain nothing," was my reply; "we understand each other perfectly. It is time for me to go in and dress." So I marched into the house, and left him looking foolish--if Frank ever _could_ look foolish--on the doorstep. As I hurried along the passages I encountered Lady Scapegrace. "What's the matter, Kate?" said she, following me into my room; "you look as if something had happened. No bad news, I trust, from Aunt Deborah?" I burst into tears. Kindness always overcomes me completely, and then I make a fool of myself. "Nothing's the matter," I sobbed out; "only I'm tired and nervous, Lady Scapegrace, and I want to dress." My hostess slipped quietly out of the room, and presently returned with some sal volatile and water: she made me drink it every drop.