Katharine did not see her father on the morning after the Botanical Fête. When she went down to breakfast the dusty footman gave her a message from Mr. Guyon, to the effect that he found himself obliged to go out early on particular business, and as he could not say how long he might be detained, she must not expect him to ride with her--he would return to dinner. This message was a fresh annoyance to Katharine, a new exacerbation of her already irritated temper. There now, she should be unable to ride, and no doubt Gordon was looking forward to meeting her in the Park, and would be again disappointed; indeed he might think she was purposely avoiding him,--who could tell? Katharine pushed her untasted breakfast from her and hurried upstairs to the drawing-room, where she paced up and down before the long windows with an impatient tread. Would he come? Would he call on her at the delightfully unconventional early hour he had selected for his first well-remembered visit? Perhaps--nay surely, he would! It was not far from eleven now; she glanced at the chimney-glass, smoothed her glossy hair, inspected the condition of her neat morning-dress; and then sat down to her piano to play all the tunes which he liked, and so get over the interval before his coming would be possible. But the expedient was not successful; the gay strains died away in harmonised reveries, sometimes into silence, as the girl sat and thought of her lover--glorified by her imagination and exalted by her own fervent nature into a very different being from the real Gordon Frere. If Katharine could but have seen him at that hour, what a difference might it not have made to them and to others! He was turning over the leaves of a Railway Guide, and talking away to Yeldham in all the newborn impetuosity of his approval of his friend's advice, and his resolution to act upon it. Yes, he would go at once; he would not delay an hour, he would not trust himself to see Katharine again. If he had met her at the Tresillians, he should certainly have committed himself; and Yeldham was right, quite right; of course Mr. Guyon would only laugh at him; and very justly, unless he could put forward some decided prospect for his consideration. Perhaps it was better that he had had no understanding with Katharine as to meeting within a day or two; he might not have been able to resist seeing her again. He would write her a note though, just a line saying he should be out of town for a few days--he must indeed, for she had asked him to inquire for some music she wanted at Cramer's: he could just write the note and get the music, and send both to Queen Anne Street before starting for the station. He flung down the Railway Guide, took up his hat and departed, whistling as he descended the staircase with an invincible light-heartedness, whereat Charles Yeldham smiled. The smile was not gay, however, and it vanished quickly, and the barrister laid down his