"At this pretty cottage, perhaps?" "No, sir." "Where then—the Reculvers?" "At Chillingham Park. Since he has begun to visit there he scarcely ever comes here. Have you not heard—have you not heard," she repeated, making a fearful effort at articulation, "that he is to be married to the only daughter and heiress of Lord Chillingham?" I felt that I became nearly as pale as herself, while replying— "I certainly have not heard of such an alliance; it is probably the silly humour of a gossiping neighbourhood." She shook her head sadly, and seated herself with an air of lassitude. "Are you sure that Mr. Berkeley was not here after I escorted you home last night?" "I am, unfortunately, but too sure. Why do you ask?" she inquired, looking up, while her eyes dilated. "Because I could have sworn that I passed him on horseback in the dusk." "Riding in this direction?" "No, towards Canterbury." "Ah, towards Chillingham Park, no doubt—there shines his loadstar now!" "And mine too," thought I, bitterly. This girl’s intelligence, whether false or true, crushed my heart more than I can describe. Aware, however, of the imperative necessity for retiring, I took up my hat and bade her adieu; but for the purpose of learning more of Berkeley’s movements, I promised, when riding that way, to call again, and inquire for her health. "The locket you have just restored was Mr. Berkeley’s gift to me upon a fatal day," said she; "and, believe me, sir, that—that, whatever you may have heard of me, or whatever you may think, I have been ’more sinned against that sinning.’" In another minute I was in the saddle, and on my way back to Canterbury. Though she did not know it, nor could she know it, this unfortunate girl had been planting thorns in my breast. I could not believe in the reality of such perfidy on the part of Louisa—of such facility on the part of the haughty Countess, her mother—or of such rapid progress on the part of Berkeley with all his wealth, the hard-won thousands of the late departed brewer. How I longed now for the arrival of Cora, who might solve or explain away some of the doubts that surrounded me! My heart swelled with rage; and yet I felt that I loved Louisa with a passion that bade fair to turn my brain! As Miss Auriol would be certain to know something of Berkeley’s movements and as she and her faithful follower, old Mrs. Goldsworthy, might prove invaluable in acquainting me with what passed at Chillingham Park, for they had jealousy to spur on their espionage, I resolved to visit once or twice again the cottage at the Reculvers, when I could do so unseen. This I did, little knowing how greatly the poor girl would interest me in her sad fate, and still less foreseeing that the course I pursued was a perilous one. But the agony of my anxiety, the bitterness of my suspicions, and my love for Louisa, overcame every scruple, and blinded me to everything else.