The Major was walking slowly, with his head down, and twirling around his finger a topaz necklace. As soon as he perceived Messrs. Clifton and Fairfax, his forehead flushed, and he hastily crammed the necklace into his vest pocket. Frank thought the whole thing strange, but, but stranger still was the conduct—the metamorphosis—the transfiguration of Mr. Clifton, who, upon observing the Major, instantly put a violent constraint upon himself, and became the broadfaced, rosy, smiling, blue-eyed, debonnair old gentleman, so lavish in the display of his fine teeth, and hearty, cordial words and smiles. Frank was provoked that their conversation was so completely arrested. “Ah, good-morning,” said Mr. Clifton, addressing the Major. “Been to Hardbargain this morning so early? How are all the folks up there? See, Archer? Why didn’t he walk with you? Eh? Expected him!” “I have not been to Hardbargain, sir,” replied the Major, rather morosely. “Been out taking a morning stroll then, eh? Fine appetite for breakfast, no doubt. And it is waiting for us, too. Come, Frank, let’s turn about.” They did so. Frank now noticed for the first time that the manner of the old gentleman was conciliating, while that of the Major was surly. They soon reached the house, and the breakfast-room, where the ladies were awaiting their arrival. As they entered, the countenance of Carolyn Clifton was flushed and eager. But when they had all got in, and were seated at the table, the color died out of her face, leaving her pale as marble. She merely trifled with her breakfast, pretending to eat, but no morsel passed her lips. When breakfast was over, and the company dispersed about the room, Carolyn almost reeled past her father in going out, and muttered with pale lips—“Father! Not come yet?” “Never mind! Never mind, my dear! I will ride up to Hardbargain and fetch him.” “Not for the universe, father! if he never comes!” replied the determined girl, plucking up her spirit, and sweeping proudly past and going into the piazza, where she sat, by-the-bye, with her eyes strained up the mountain-path by which he ought to come. Frank got no opportunity of speaking alone with Zuleime. Old Mr. Clifton met him, however, when he came in from looking after his horse, and said, kindly patting him on the shoulder— “Indeed, my dear boy, I don’t see the least necessity for your leaving us until after dinner. The stage coach doesn’t pass through L—— till eight o’clock at night, and five or six hours is ample time in which to reach there!” “Yes, sir! I grant it, but I have to go this morning to Hardbargain to take leave of Mrs. Clifton, and of my friend Archer, if, indeed, the latter is not ordered on the same duty as myself, which, upon Miss Clifton’s account, I am inclined to fear!”