"Two years ago--how different Marius will be! I hope he will get on with Rose. And--la, my dear, 'tis near seven of the clock!" She rose, her grey eyes agitated and a flush in her cheeks. "Seven he is to be here!" "Let us walk to the front and watch for him," said Miss Chressham. The elder lady took her arm, and they went into the quiet hall, looked into the dining-room where early moss roses showed between the glass and silver on the table and the candles in their sconces sent flickerings on the portraits of fair gay Lyndwoods, past to the open door, and so on to the wide, shallow steps. It was a most beautiful evening, a new moon floated in gauzy vapour above the soft dark lines of the trees; mysterious and beckoning the white road gleamed away into the twilight; the stone vases at the bottom of the steps were dimly visible; a faint sweetness rose from the early pinks they carried. Jasmine and roses covered the front of Lyndwood Holt, and their tendrils, lightly stirring now and then, touched the dresses of the two ladies waiting in the dusk. The village clock sounded faintly, then from the stable came the chimes of seven. "He will be very tired," said the Countess. Miss Chressham laughed. "He will only have ridden from Maidstone, dear." "Of course," answered Lady Lyndwood's sweet vague voice. "I always think of him as coming from Paris--as if he had come straight from there"--she laughed aimlessly. "I wish Rose had been here," she added. "I swear I feel quite nervous." "Rose comes to-morrow," repeated the younger lady. A little pause, then the Countess spoke again. "The place looks very well, does it not? though perhaps after the gaieties of the Continent----" "Here he is," interrupted Miss Chressham. Down the dusky glimmer of road came the sound of a hurrying horse. The Countess advanced impulsively down the steps. A rider galloped up through the twilight--a slender young man in a travelling cloak was kissing Lady Lyndwood, laughing and breathless, before Miss Chressham had freed her skirt from a long rose bough. "Susannah!" He held out his hand as she joined them. "May I still kiss her?" he asked his mother. "Yes, Marius," smiled Miss Chressham; "to-night, at least." He saluted her cheek and her hands. The three came towards the house together. "And you are well and safe? And your portmantles? And where is Mr. Hardinge? And--oh, Marius--I fear it will seem so dull!" cried the Countess in a breath. Marius Lyndwood laughed an answer. "Indeed, I am well, and the man is following with the trunks. I left Mr. Hardinge at Dover. And, now my turn. Where is Rose?" "He is coming to-morrow," answered both the ladies, as they passed into the hall. "Why, he wrote to me he would be here to-night," said Marius Lyndwood. "He could not," replied Miss Chressham hastily. "His engagements." The young man flung off his cloak and hat with a pleasant laugh.