“Yes, Rose, I am going with you to Belcomb. It is a very favourite spot of mine--very. It was about that expedition, partly, that I wished to speak with you. I was about to ask you to be very careful in your conduct towards my sons this day. It is the last time they will be together for weeks, perhaps. Be kind to my poor Richard. Of course, Walter knew nothing of what has passed between you and his brother; but the bow which he drew at a venture sent home a barbed shot.” Miss Aynton bowed her head. “You were sorry for that, Rose, I know. You cannot fail to see how irritable he has lately grown, poor fellow. The fact is, he has overestimated the strength of his own powers of self-constraint. Your presence is a perpetual trial to him.” My Lady paused, anticipating some reply to a hint so palpable; but Miss Aynton, who carried her fancy-work in her pocket, continued to develop a pansy in floss silk; and the flower opened in silence. “Under these circumstances, dear Rose,” pursued my Lady, “do you not think it would be better--I know how embarrassing it would be to you to propose it, and therefore, although your hostess, I relieve you of the task--do you not think it would, on the whole, be wiser for you to leave us a little sooner than you had intended?” The humming of the opera tune, and the odour of the Havana, were growing more distinct, and the elastic footfall on the gravel was coming very near. “If I consulted my own feelings,” returned Miss Aynton, in firm, clear tones, “I should certainly have left Mirk before this, Lady Lisgard.” “Hush, Miss Aynton, for Heaven's sake!” cried my Lady, “the window is open.” “But unless Sir Richard himself,” pursued the girl in more subdued accents, “releases me from my promise to remain until after his birthday, I must, with your permission, madam, do so; otherwise, he might possibly imagine that _his_ presence is too great a trial for _me_, and I should be loath indeed to have my departure so misconstrued.” There was bitterness in the tone with which she spoke, but determination too. “I am to understand, then,” returned my Lady flushing, “that contrary to my advice and wish”---- “Mother, dear, here comes the Break,” cried Master Walter, from the terrace beneath, in his ringing cheerful tones. “I hope you have told Roberts about the prog.” “Yes, dear, yes,” answered my Lady, lovingly even in her haste; then turning to the young girl, she whispered almost fiercely: “At least, Miss Aynton, you will shape your behaviour this afternoon as I requested. There is no time now to discuss the other matter.” And indeed the butler entered the next moment with: “The Break is at the door, my Lady.”