It seemed almost incredible to be sitting _tête-à-tête_ with Ella, after all his dreams and efforts; but even more surprising was her quiet, unembarrassed manner. Had Wilton been her grandfather, she could not have eaten with more composure, and, it must be added, zest, showing a decided preference for cold game and sweets. "Let me recommend some hot wine-and-water," said Wilton, as she put down her knife and fork, after refusing a second supply of grouse. "Thank you, no. I never take wine; but, if I might ask for something?" "Certainly; anything within the resources of Glenraven and Mrs. McKollop." "Then may I have a cup of coffee?" Wilton immediately ordered it; and, when it came, his guest expressed high approval. "Ah! your people have learned how to make this in France." "From Frenchmen, at any rate. That was one accomplishment our servants picked up." "The coffee at Brosedale is so dead; it is not the least like coffee! This reminds me of Italy and France." "Then you have been a good deal abroad?" "Nearly all my life." A full stop; and Wilton felt he had led up neatly to the story of her past. "As you will take nothing more, suppose we go into the next room?" She rose, and then stopped. "Oh! I have lost Mrs. McKollop's shoe under the table." Wilton laughed, and assisted in the search. "I wish we had anything nearer the mark to offer you," he said, as he produced a huge, broad-soled thick shoe, tied on the instep. "They must fit you like snow-shoes." "There is a good deal of stocking to fill up with," she replied, as she managed to shuffle into the room on the opposite side of the hall, which was somewhat more ornamental than the one they left. Sundry sporting prints, a deer's head, various pipes, and plenty of writing-materials, with a splendid fire, and several comfortable easy-chairs, made it a pleasant apartment. "And you live here?" said Ella Rivers, moving round the room with some curiosity; "and you smoke very good cigars. I recognize the perfume." "I hope it is not very disagreeable?" "Disagreeable? Oh, no! I love it. But how it snows! There is no chance of my getting back till it abates." "Certainly not," returned Wilton, cheerfully, and adopting her easy, friendly tone. "So, pray sit down near the fire, and permit me to enjoy the fruit of my treasure-trove--I mean, a little talk with you." "Yes--it is very nice to talk over a good fire," she said, returning slowly from the window and seating herself in a large chair; "but I wish it would clear."