Lucy durst not ask what were the contents of the note; but her mother threw it to her, bidding her look for the book. She read the momentous communication, the withholding of which by John had so excited her internal wrath, and she thought it the shortest, oddest note, she ever read!—so abrupt! evidently written in such a hurry! There could be no doubt, however, what it meant to convey—a complete breaking off of the intimacy with their family;—even sending for his book in such haste! Meanwhile, she hunted for the volume, and she packed it up, resolving in her own mind to beware of the base deceiver, man; and feeling herself a slighted damsel. Lord Montreville’s absence had been caused by business connected with the intentions he entertained towards Lucy; but if he had acted upon a plan, he could not have shown more consummate policy. Every one values more highly whatever they have lost, or believe themselves on the point of losing; and when, in the course of that very day, he himself called at Rosehill Lodge, Lucy felt very happy, and greeted him with a blushing cheek and conscious face, which made him think he had really inspired the young thing with the tenderest interest; and Lucy, when she felt her heart beat, said to herself, “This is love—it can be nothing else.” They were prepared for their walk, when Lord Montreville called; and he begged leave to accompany them. Mrs. Heckfield stopped to give some directions to the gardener, Lord Montreville proceeded along the shrubbery-path with Lucy, and Mrs. Heckfield was not so swift of foot as to overtake them without exerting herself more than she thought there was any occasion to do. The three-cornered note had not appeared to her such decisive evidence of a wish to withdraw from their acquaintance. Lord Montreville expressed his pleasure at returning to Lyneton,—not that he liked Lyneton—he thought it an odious place; but he was so glad to find himself once more in the neighbourhood of Rosehill Lodge: but great as was the pleasure he felt, he could hardly flatter himself his return could give any corresponding pleasure; if he could suppose so, he should indeed esteem himself fortunate. “It is coming,” thought Lucy; and she now felt as much afraid he should propose, as she had before felt afraid he would not. Her whole wish was to avert the momentous explanation. “Oh, yes,” she answered, “mamma is always very glad to see you. Where is mamma? perhaps she has missed us; we had better find her;” and she turned and mended her pace. “May I not hope to detain you one moment, Miss Heckfield?” asked Lord Montreville, in a voice of earnest persuasion. “Oh! it is as good as come!” thought Lucy; “what shall I do?—Oh yes, certainly,” she answered, but walked on faster than ever. “If you would allow me a few moments’ conversation, Miss Heckfield, I have much to say that interests me deeply.” “Where can mamma be?” rejoined Lucy, in a tone of fear and trepidation.