"Nevertheless, I will come," I cry incautiously, springing to my feet, "and beg for the continuance of my happiness, which includes everything." "Oh, Phyllis!" cries Bebe. "Oh, Mrs. Carrington," exclaims Sir Mark; "what a rash proceeding! Why did you say it aloud? You have destroyed every chance of receiving that good gift." "Yes," say I, "how provoking! Never mind, contentment still remains: and that, I have heard, is quite as much to be desired." Everybody laughs heartily, and Marmaduke says, "You will get nothing, Phyllis, if you declare your wants so openly." "Neither happiness nor contentment, how dismal!" exclaim I, laughing too. "Well, I shall keep my third and last thought to myself." And having hoped in my own mind that Lord Chandos would very soon again ask Bebe to be his wife, I go through the form of drinking a little of the pure spring water Master Chips offers me with due solemnity. The principal business of the day being concluded, our party once more breaks up into detachments, some straying out of sight in pretended search of scenery, some following their example in an opposite direction without any pretense at all. Sinking down again by mother's side, I content myself with her and Harriet, while Marmaduke and Sir James stay to bear us company, and smoke unlimited cigars, while offering a lazy remark every now and then. "Do you feel no desire to investigate the neighborhood?" asks Sir Mark of me, carelessly, as he passes by; and as I answer, "No," with a smile and shake of my head, he saunters off towards Lottie Hastings, with whom he commences a flirtation, calm but vigorous. Somehow it is a peaceful hour we spend, and one that drives me from the vague irritation that before tormented me. In the quiet of the present I forget all life's vexations, and remember only such good things as are within my grasp. How paltry now seem the troubles that oppress me! I fear--yet know not what it is I fear. I doubt--yet, if compelled to do so, would find a difficulty in giving my doubt a name. This sweeter mood continues, and travels home with me, although we do not reach Strangemore until it is nearly nine. Here, at an early supper, we all find ourselves in the wildest spirits. Glancing curiously at Dora, attracted by some nameless new expression in her eyes, I feel convinced the day has been to her one of unmixed triumph, and that already the Wishing Well has granted her desire. As I get near her in the drawing-room, I manage to whisper, "What is it, Dora? did he? Are you---" "Yes he _did_, and I _am_" responded Dora, with a smile of unusual liveliness for her. "To-night you shall know all." --- "How was it, Dora? How did it happen?" I ask, two hours later, as I sit opposite to her, my hands embracing my knees, in my favorite position, my head bent forward in eager anticipation of her news.