“Did you go out to meet him _to-night?_” inquired Lady Lisgard sharply, and keeping her eyes fixed steadily upon her attendant's face. “No, madam, I did not.” “She is speaking truth,” murmured my Lady to herself. “Who, then, could it be whom I saw upon the churchyard path just now?” “Although,” continued Mrs Forest quietly, “I don't deny that I have often met him after dusk, no other time being permitted to us; but to-day he has gone to town.” “And you are to write to him thither to give him your final decision as to whether you will become his wife or not.” “How on earth do you know that, my Lady?” inquired the waiting-maid with a curiosity even beyond her indignation. “I _do_ know it, dear old friend,” answered Lady Lisgard tenderly, “and it is because of that knowledge that I have sent for you to-night, to strive to persuade you to write 'No,' while there is yet time.” It was very seldom--not once in a year, perhaps--that Mary Forest was ever out of temper with my Lady; but then such a supreme occasion as the present had never occurred before. Underneath their mère superficial relation of mistress and servant, they were more like elder and younger sister; but then even sisters quarrel when the one wants the other--generally under some pretence of mère prudence, not to be listened to by a woman of spirit--to give up the man of her choice. The ample countenance of Mistress Forest expressed something more than Decision in the negative; there was an unpleasant smile upon her pale lips, which seemed to say: “If you knew what I know, you would know that you are wasting your breath.” She sat with her plump hands folded before her, like a naughty boy that has been put in the corner, but who does not care--nay, more, who knows that he has got a cracker to put presently under his master's chair, the results of which will make full amends for the inconvenience he at present experiences. “I will say nothing more, Mary, of the mutual esteem and affection between us two, and of the pain that an eternal parting--such as your marriage with this Mr Derrick would most undoubtedly entail--needs must cost us both. I presume that you have weighed that matter in your mind, and found it--however weighty--insufficient to alter your determination?” Mary nodded, sharply enough, but it was doubtful if she could have spoken. Already her features had lost their rigidity, as though melted by my Lady's touching tones. “You have known this person--that is to say, you have met him some dozen times--during a period of less than four months; yet such is his influence over you, that you are prepared to sacrifice for him a friend of thirty years' standing, a comfortable home, and a position in which you are respected by all who know you. If I was speaking to a young girl, Mary, I should not advance these arguments; but you are a--a wise and sensible woman, and yet not of such a mature age that you need despair of finding a suitable partner for the rest of your life.”