After breakfast, I chance to be coming down-stairs just as Charley is standing alone in the hall, lighting a cigar. I take advantage of the opportunity to walk up to him, to button-hole him, and conduct him into a private corner. Here I look straight into his eyes. “Charley,” I say, “what is the meaning of your conduct this morning? What unhallowed influence is at work with you? Such a thing has never been known before—that you—_you_ should rise at daylight for the pleasure of riding several miles with a young lady! Tell me, honestly and seriously, are you flirting, or are you falling in love with this girl?” “Women’s heads always run on flirting and falling in love,” replies Charley, with an air of carelessness. “Suppose I return your question and ask you whether Sylvia is flirting or falling in love with _Monsieur le Musicien_?” “What insufferable nonsense! How dare you imagine that she is doing either? Can she not be civil and agreeable to the young man without incurring such suspicions?” “And can I not be civil and agreeable to Miss Dupont without incurring ditto?” “Of course, if you choose to take that tone about it, there is nothing to be said,” I remark, with dignity. “But, if you think I do not understand the matter, you are vastly mistaken!” “I don’t know that there is any thing to understand,” says Charley, coolly, “except that Sylvia is amusing herself with Mr. Dupont, and I am allowing Miss Dupont to amuse herself with me. _Voilà tout!_” “I hope you are not both playing with fire,” I say, vexedly. “If we are, we shall probably be scorched,” returns Monsieur Imperturbable, walking away. CHAPTER IV. “A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke, Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go; And some through wavering lights and shadows broke, Rolling a slumb’rous sheet of foam below. They saw the gleaming river seaward flow From the inner land. Far off three mountain-tops Stood sunset-flushed.” “Alice,” says Sylvia, as she stands before the mirror arranging her hat, “I shall ride with Mr. Dupont this afternoon.” [Illustration: Preparing for the Ride.] “Very well,” I answer indifferently, being engaged just then in fitting on my gloves and gazing out of the window. “There seem to be a great many people here,” I remark, “and such a number of ox-carts!” “And I want _you_ to go with Charley,” she proceeds. “Indeed!” I say, roused to interest by this. “How kind of you to think of me! But there is one slight objection to my going with Charley—he has not asked me to do so.” “But you can ask him to go with you,” she says persuasively. “You can take him in the phaeton, and make Eric go on horseback with Adèle.” “If he and Eric were puppets, and if I had any desire for Charley’s society, I might—perhaps. As it is, such a thing is impossible. Why do you suggest it?”