There is something unpleasant about saying good-bye to a place, and I found I had all sorts of sensations rising in my throat at various points in my walk. However, all that is ridiculous and must be forgotten. As I was coming round the corner of the terrace, a great gust of wind nearly blew me into Mr. Carruthers's arms. Odious weather we are having this autumn! "Where have you been all the morning?" he said, when we had recovered ourselves a little. "I have searched for you all over the place." "You do not know it all yet, or you would have found me," I said, pretending to walk on. "No, you shall not go now!" he exclaimed, pacing beside me. "Why won't you be amiable, and make me feel at home?" "I do apologize if I have been unamiable," I said, with great frankness. "Mrs. Carruthers always brought me up to have such good manners." After that he talked to me for half an hour about the place. He seemed to have forgotten his vehemence of the night before. He asked all sorts of questions, and showed a sentiment and a delicacy I should not have expected from his hard face. I was quite sorry when the gong sounded for luncheon and we went in. I have no settled plan in my head. I seem to be drifting--tasting for the first time some power over another human being. It gave me delicious thrills to see his eagerness when contrasted with the dry refusal of my hand only the day before. At lunch I addressed myself to Mr. Barton; he was too flattered at my attention, and continued to chatter garrulously. The rain came on and poured and beat against the window-panes with a sudden, angry thud. No chance of further walks abroad. I escaped up-stairs while the butler was speaking to Mr. Carruthers, and began helping Veronique to pack. Chaos and desolation it all seemed in my cosey rooms. While I was on my knees in front of a great wooden box, hopelessly trying to stow away books, a crisp tap came to the door, and without more ado my host--yes, he is that now--entered the room. "Good Lord! what is all this?" he exclaimed. "What are you doing?" "Packing," I said, not getting up. He made an impatient gesture. "Nonsense!" he said. "There is no need to pack. I tell you I will not let you go. I am going to marry you and keep you here always." I sat down on the floor and began to laugh. "You think so, do you?" "Yes." "You can't force me to marry you, you know--can you? I want to see the world. I don't want any tiresome man bothering after me. If I ever do marry, it will be because--oh, because--" and I stopped and began fiddling with the cover of a book. "What?" "Mrs. Carruthers said it was so foolish--but I believe I should prefer to marry some one I liked. Oh, I know you think that silly--" and I stopped him as he was about to speak--"but of course, as it does not last, anyway, it might be good for a little to begin like that--don't you think so?"