"I may not stay, Mary: I only came back to tell you this. And to wish you goodnight once again." Her hand was within his arm, and they walked together to the end of the music-room. All the lights had been put out, save two. Just within the door he halted and took his farewell. His arm was around her, his lips were upon hers. "May all good angels guard you this happy night--my love!--my promised wife!" He went down the corridor swiftly; she stole her blushing face to the opening of the door, to take a last look at him. At that moment a crash, as of some frail thing broken, was heard in the card-room. Mr. Blake-Gordon turned into it Mary Ursula followed him. The beautiful Dresden vase lay on the stone flags of the hearth, shivered into many atoms. It was one that Mary Ursula set great store by, for it had been a purchase of her mother's. "Oh papa! How did it happen?" "My dear, I swept it off unwittingly with my elbow: I am very sorry for it," said Mr. Peter Castlemaine. CHAPTER VI. ANTHONY CASTLEMAINE ON HIS SEARCH. The hour of dinner with all business men in Stilborough was half-past one o'clock in the day. Perhaps Mr. Peter Castlemaine was the only man who did not really dine then; but he took his luncheon; which came to the same thing. It was the recognized daily interregnum in the public doings of the town--this half hour between half-past one and two: consequently shops, banks, offices, all were virtually though not actually closed. The bank of Mr. Peter Castlemaine made no exception. On all days, except Thursday, market day, the bank was left to the care of one clerk during this half hour: the rest of the clerks and Mr. Hill would be out at their dinner. As a rule, not a single customer came in until two o'clock had struck. It was the day after the ball. The bank had been busy all the morning, and Mr. Peter Castlemaine had been away the best part of it. He came back at half-past one, just as the clerks were filing out. "Do you want me, sir?" asked Thomas Hill, standing back with his hat in his hand; and it was the dreadfully worn, perplexed look on his master's face that induced him to ask the question. "Just for a few minutes," was the reply. "Come into my room." Once there, the door was closed upon them, and they sat in grievous tribulation. There was no dinner for poor Thomas Hill that day; there was no lunch for his master: the hour's perplexities were all in all.