CECILIA stole a shy glance at Kenelm as the two emerged from the fernery into the open space of the lawn. His countenance pleased her. She thought she discovered much latent gentleness under the cold and mournful gravity of its expression; and, attributing the silence he maintained to some painful sense of an awkward position in the abrupt betrayal of his incognito, sought with womanly tact to dispel his supposed embarrassment. “You have chosen a delightful mode of seeing the country this lovely summer weather, Mr. Chillingly. I believe such pedestrian exercises are very common with university students during the long vacation.” “Very common, though they generally wander in packs like wild dogs or Australian dingoes. It is only a tame dog that one finds on the road travelling by himself; and then, unless he behaves very quietly, it is ten to one that he is stoned as a mad dog.” “But I am afraid, from what I hear, that you have not been travelling very quietly.” “You are quite right, Miss Travers, and I am a sad dog if not a mad one. But pardon me: we are nearing the marquee; the band is striking up, and, alas! I am not a dancing dog.” He released Cecilia’s arm, and bowed. “Let us sit here a while, then,” said she, motioning to a garden-bench. “I have no engagement for the next dance, and, as I am a little tired, I shall be glad of a reprieve.” Kenelm sighed, and, with the air of a martyr stretching himself on the rack, took his place beside the fairest girl in the county. “You were at college with Mr. Belvoir?” “I was.” “He was thought clever there?” “I have not a doubt of it.” “You know he is canvassing our county for the next election. My father takes a warm interest in his success, and thinks he will be a useful member of Parliament.” “Of that I am certain. For the first five years he will be called pushing, noisy, and conceited, much sneered at by men of his own age, and coughed down on great occasions; for the five following years he will be considered a sensible man in committees, and a necessary feature in debate; at the end of those years he will be an under-secretary; in five years more he will be a Cabinet Minister, and the representative of an important section of opinions; he will be an irreproachable private character, and his wife will be seen wearing the family diamonds at all the great parties. She will take an interest in politics and theology; and if she die before him, her husband will show his sense of wedded happiness by choosing another lady, equally fitted to wear the family diamonds and to maintain the family consequences.” In spite of her laughter, Cecilia felt a certain awe at the solemnity of voice and manner with which Kenelm delivered these oracular sentences, and the whole prediction seemed strangely in unison with her own impressions of the character whose fate was thus shadowed out. “Are you a fortune-teller, Mr. Chillingly?” she asked, falteringly, and after a pause.