“It’s not a pleasant place for her to be in, certainly,” thought he, “My little breakfast-room at the Manor Farm, notwithstanding all the litter of guns and fishing-rods and pipes, is a much more inviting room than this. To my mind at least—I wonder if she would think so!” And then he fell to wondering which of his horses would carry him best to cover on the morrow, considering the direction which was likely to be taken, the nature of the ground &c. “By-the-bye,” he thought suddenly, “I wonder if Miss Vere has ever been at a meet. I’ll ask her. Bessie, I’m certain, would carry a lady, only then who would be with her? If Harry were here it would be all right. There are those Copley girls, they are very good-natured, and might ask her to join them. I’ll see if I can’t manage it.” But his further reflections were interrupted by the opening of the door, and the entrance of Marion herself. She knew who was there, and her pale face was slightly flushed with pleasure as she came in; but for all that, Geoffrey was not a little startled by her appearance. She looked painfully fragile. The cold weather and her black dress increased the extreme delicacy of her complexion, and the almost attenuated look of her slight, tall figure. Strangely enough, at that moment there thrilled through Geoffrey the same foreboding, the same acute misgiving as had tortured the heart of Ralph Severn that last evening at Altes. And in the present instance it acted to some extent as a revelation. As his gaze rested on Marion, a tremor seized the strong man. Horses, hunting, all he had been thinking of with so much interest but a moment before, faded from his mind, and in perfect silence he touched the hand so cordially extended to him, and mechanically drew nearer the fire a chair on which Marion seated herself. She did not observe his agitation, and began to talk brightly and heartily. “I am so glad, so very glad, to see you again, Mr. Baldwin,” she said, “I really began to think you were never coming back. And I wanted to tell you that I have, really and truly, been doing my very best to be good and patient—but really, Mr. Baldwin, it is drearily, inexpressibly dull here.” Geoffrey’s only answer was a glance of sympathy, enough however to encourage her to proceed.