He did not however allow himself a moment to pause. On the contrary, he walked so quick, that when he found himself in Miss Baker's drawing-room, he was almost out of breath, and partly from that cause, and partly from his agitation, was unable to speak to that lady in his usual unruffled manner. "Ah, how do you do, Miss Baker? I'm very glad to see you. I have run down to-day in a great hurry, and I am very anxious to see Caroline. Is she out?" Miss Baker explained that she was not out; and would be down very shortly. "I'm glad she's not away, for I am very anxious to see her--very." Miss Baker, with her voice also in a tremble, asked if anything was the matter. "No; nothing the matter. But the truth is, I'm tired of this, Miss Baker, and I want to settle it. I don't know how she may bear it, but it has half killed me." Miss Baker looked at him almost aghast, for his manner was energetic and almost wild. Only that he so frequently was wild, she would have feared that something dreadful was about to happen. She had not, however, time to say anything further, for Caroline's step was heard on the stairs. "Could you let us be alone for ten minutes," said George. "But I feel the shame of turning you out of your own drawing-room. Perhaps Caroline will not mind coming down with me into the parlour." But Miss Baker of course waived this objection, and as she retreated, the two ladies met just at the drawing-room door. Caroline was about to speak, but was stopped by the expression on her aunt's face. Ladies have little ways of talking to each other, with nods and becks and wreathed smiles, which are quite beyond the reach of men; and in this language aunt Mary did say something as she passed which gave her niece to understand that the coming interview would not consist merely of the delights which are common among lovers. Caroline, therefore, as she entered the room composed her face for solemn things, and walked slowly, and not without some dignity in her mien, into the presence of him who was to be her lord and master. "We hardly expected you, George," she said. His father had been right. She was looking well, very well. Her figure was perhaps not quite so full, nor the colour in her cheek quite so high as when he had first seen her in Jerusalem; but, otherwise, she had never seemed to him more lovely. The little effort she had made to collect herself, to assume a certain majesty in her gait, was becoming to her. So also was her plain morning dress, and the simple braid in which her hair was collected. It might certainly be boasted of Miss Waddington that she was a beauty of the morning rather than of the night; that her complexion was fitted for the sun rather than for gaslight.