"I will allow no departure, Mr. Pynsent. Anna Maria must detain you prisoner till Roberts allows me to escape. Mind, I lay my commands upon you to remain at Wetheral." Lady Wetheral had scarcely closed the door upon her own exit, when Anna Maria entered at the opposite end of the room, blooming and happy; her eyes sparkled with pleasure, as they rested upon Tom Pynsent. "I only heard of your arrival this instant," she said, as they shook hands; "you have not been here alone long, I hope." Tom Pynsent placed a chair for the young lady, and seated himself near her, but for some moments he did not speak. Miss Wetheral looked at him with surprise. Tom Pynsent at length broke the awkward pause. "I am sorry you are ill, Miss Wetheral." "I never was better in my life, Mr. Pynsent," replied Anna Maria, smiling. "What makes you suppose I am ill?" "I thought you looked very well, Miss Wetheral, but I was told you were poorly, and I am sure you look as little like a consumptive person as any one I ever saw!" "Who could invent such a fable?" inquired Anna Maria. "I have heard something worse than that," continued Tom, hesitating, and walking to the window. "Good heavens! about me! or any unpleasant news from Hatton?" "Lady Wetheral says we are not to ride again together. I think it a very extraordinary thing, don't you?" Tom Pynsent looked at the distant Wrekin to appear unconcerned. He received no reply from Anna Maria. "I think it a monstrous folly to deny one those kind of things," proceeded Tom, turning towards his companion, who sat gazing at him, pale as her own muslin dress. He was shocked at her appearance, and, forgetting his shyness in affectionate solicitude, he took both her hands in his. "Miss Wetheral, do you mind it as much as I do? Just tell me if you mind it as I do?" Anna Maria could only answer in alarm, and almost involuntarily "Yes." Tom Pynsent could not command his feelings; he caught her in his arms, and saluted her with a kiss, which might have been distinctly heard in the hall. "I like a girl who speaks her mind without affectation and nonsense, and there's a good fox-hunting kiss from your husband, if you will make me so, and we will ride together in spite of the devil." Miss Wetheral's astonishment at the action, and her happiness at her lover's subsequent speech, prevented all reply; but she gave him her hand at once, though her face was covered with blushes. Tom Pynsent squeezed the little white hand with rapture, and her open dealing made a taciturn lover garrulous with approval.