And who was 'the one fellow' for whom she had only eyes, as Hew had vulgarly phrased it? Most probably Hew meant himself! If so, Cecil thought that she cloaked or concealed her partiality with wonderful discretion. To avoid interfering with that gentleman's views or wishes, Cecil gave much of his attention to Annabelle Erroll, and even to 'the old soldier,' as Hew called Mrs. Garth; but Mary summoned him to her side to see Snarley put through all his performances, such as leaping over her interlaced hands as through a ring, walking erect round the room for a lump of sugar, tossing another high off his sharp nose at the word of command, to catch it with a snap in its descent, and so forth, all the while he did so eyeing Cecil with undisguised hostility. And eventually the evening closed in like the preceding one (save that old Sir Piers, worn out with his day's sport, had fallen asleep in an easy-chair, with a handkerchief spread over his face), with music and duet-singing, and pleasant conversation, ere some of the visitors rose to depart. That there should be so much duet-singing, and Mary's occupation with the stranger, and that the general conversation was of a kind in which he could bear no prominent part, disgusted Hew, who was in a detestable humour; yet he had the policy to conceal it pretty well (though his bilious eye was more bilious than ever) till once, he drew near Mary, while Cecil, in another part of the room, was occupied with old Mrs. Garth, who was relating with great unction some memory of the Cameronians in _her_ day; and now Hew's ready jealousy became painfully apparent. 'Good heavens, Hew!' said Mary, in a low voice, her dark eyes dilating as she spoke; 'what is this Mr. Balderstone has told us?' 'Can't say, for the life of me; the old pump!' 'That you nearly shot Mr. Falconer to-day in the Fir Wood.' 'Did I? Well, the blundering fellow was out of his proper place, I suppose,' was the sulky rejoinder. 'What a dreadful thing if you had injured him! Hew! you are positively dangerous.' 'My dear Mary, you deem him an Admirable Crichton, I doubt not,' said he, smilingly, in her ear. 'What do _you_ deem him?' 'Slow and deuced ugly.' 'Ugly--oh, come, Hew!' said Mary, laughing very merrily at such undisguised jealousy, which somehow did not flatter her in the least--it was too comical. 'I have no doubt our "old soldier" here deems him a very eligible _parti_ for anyone; a subaltern, with two shirts a week and a few dickies, by Jove!' he continued. 'How--how coarse you are!' said Mary, with her silvery laugh again; 'but don't let grand-uncle hear you sneering thus. He, too, was a subaltern once.' 'Yes, but with the rent-roll of Eaglescraig! I wish him well out of our neighbourhood anyway,' he added threateningly. 'Why, what harm has he done you?' 'None as yet,' replied Hew, getting more sulky than ever; 'but I may harm him!' 'How?'