"Good gracious, Mrs. Gillett! will you tell me what you mean? Will you tell me what you mean?--who's that man?" "Why, Mr. Tremenhere, to be sure!" answered the other, amazed at the question. Sylvia was silent. In the bottom of her heart she felt something like pleasure; she hated all men, _pour cause_, as the French so impressively say. She hoped some one would shoot this one for his audacity--he deserved it; then, too, she even felt a something of jealousy towards Lady Ripley, for marrying at all when she remained single, and especially an earl. She had a sort of idea, that only a certain quantum of mankind was by fate allotted to each family, and that this one, by his exalted rank, had appropriated all, and bestowed it upon only one--else, why were she and Dorcas single? In this mood of mind, she rejoiced at any thing to lower Lady Ripley's pride, and resolved silently to watch the course of events, and be guided by them how to act. Accordingly she bound down Mrs. Gillett to profound secresy; and, having watched the two separate at the garden gate, she entered the house by the back-door, leaving her confidant more puzzled than ever what to do, finding herself the repository of so many opposite secrets, and fearing events, should they clash in any way. Sylvia noticed every turn in Dora's countenance at breakfast, and, without surprise, listened to a half-smothered sigh. All seemed as clear as day to her idea. There was a private communication existing between Miles and Lady Dora; that was why he had come so unexpectedly to the neighbourhood--she was the magnet. She was in a mood to hate all--rejoice at any annoyance to others; for it was a little wounding, after all the trouble she had taken to bring about events, to see her pet, Mr. Dalby, quietly resigning, as was the case, his pretensions to Minnie's hand. Dalby was a prudent man, and, seeing the girl's evident repugnance towards himself, wisely said, "I shall never succeed; if I pursue her, I shall lose my friend--if I give her up at this stage of the affair, her dislike is not so apparent to others, but that the squire should owe me a debt of gratitude for withdrawing in his favour--I'll choose the squire!" Accordingly he resigned, and was once more reinstated in Marmaduke Burton's favour as one in whom he could trust. It was a complete game of cross purposes with almost all, under cloak of which the ones most interested passed comparatively unnoticed. One thing Lady Dora had accomplished by her morning walk. Miles Tremenhere turned thoughtfully away, and the result of his cogitations was a determination to remain some short time longer at Farmer Weld's--he must do so--had he not promised Minnie a sketch of Gatestone, and the surrounding scenery? In common politeness he must remain; so "common politeness," like many other things, bore the burthen which of right belonged to another--"inclination." Some days passed away. Lady Ripley spoke of shortly leaving for town.