"Then, Mr Lorton," she said, her grey eyes flashing, and her whole dear little self roused into a fiery, impulsive little Min--she looked glorious in her pique!--"then, Mr Lorton, I will not seek to detain you further--let me pass, sir!" she added passionately, as, relenting of my behaviour, I tried to stop her and explain my conduct--"Let me pass, sir! I do not wish to hear another word from you!" And she walked, as stately as a little queen, into the hall of the vicarage, tossing up her sweet little dimpled chin proudly; while, I?-- went back disconsolately home, my heart torn with conflicting emotions. Was I right, or wrong? Perhaps the rumour of her engagement had not the slightest foundation, in fact. However, it was too late now to think about that! All was over. We were parted for ever! CHAPTER TWELVE. ON THE RIVER. We left behind the painted buoy That tosses at the harbour mouth; And madly danced our heart with joy, As fast we fleeted to the south. How fresh was every sight and sound On open main, on winding shore! We knew the merry world was round, And we might sail for evermore. "Frank, what do you mean by behaving so unkindly to Minnie Clyde?" was the opening salutation of little Miss Pimpernell to me, the same evening, when I called round again at the vicarage, like Telemachus, in search of consolation. I was so utterly miserable and disheartened at the conviction that everything was over between Min and myself--at the sudden collapse of all my eager hopes and ardent longings--that I felt I must speak to somebody and unbosom myself; or else I should go out of my senses. "_I_ behave unkindly to Miss Clyde!" I exclaimed, in astonishment at her thus addressing me, before I could get out a word as to why I had come to see her--"I--I--I--don't know what you mean, Miss Pimpernell?" "You know, or ought to know very well, Frank, without my telling you," she rejoined; and there was a grave tone in her voice, for which I could not account. However, the dear old lady did not leave me long in doubt. She was never in the habit of "beating about the bush;" but always spoke out straight, plump and plain, to the point. "Really, my boy," she continued, "I think there is no excuse for your acting so strangely to the poor little girl, after all your attentions and long intimacy!" "But, Miss Pimpernell," I commenced; however, she quickly interrupted me. "`But me no buts,' Frank Lorton," she said, with more determination and severity than she had ever used to me since I had known her. "I'm quite angry with you. You have disappointed all my expectations, when I thought I knew your character so well, too! Learn, that there is no one I despise so much as a male flirt. Oh, Frank! I did not think you had a grain of such little-mindedness in you! I believed you to be straightforward, and earnest, and true. I'm sadly disappointed in you, my boy; sadly disappointed!" and she shook her head reproachfully.