"And shall I come back, ma'am--about nine?" said the girl eagerly. "O no; certainly not," replied Lady Scarlett. "Come back with Martha, under your brother's charge. I don't think you ought to come back alone." Lady Scarlett inadvertently turned her face in the direction of Prayle, as she spoke, and found his eyes fixed upon her gravely, as he rested his elbows on the table and kept his finger-tips together. "Certainly not," he said softly. "You are quite right, I think;" and he bowed his head in a quiet serious manner, as if giving the matter his entire approval. Fanny said, "Thank you, ma'am;" and it might have been supposed that this extension of time would have afforded her gratification; but an analyst of the human countenance would have said that there was something almost spiteful in the look which she bestowed upon Arthur Prayle, as she was about to leave the room. In due time the visit was paid, Fanny and Martha bestowing no little attention on their outward appearance; and upon crossing the bridge and taking the meadow-path, they were some little distance from the farm, when Brother William encountered them, with a very shiny face, as if polished for the occasion, and a rose in the button-hole of his velveteen coat. "How are you, Martha Betts?" he said, with a very bountiful smile; and he shook hands almost too heartily to be pleasant, even to one whose fingers were pretty well hardened with work.--"How are you, Fanny, lass?" he continued; and he was about to bestow upon the graceful well-dressed little body a fraternal hug and a kiss, but she repelled him. "No; don't, William. There that will do. I'm very glad to see you; but I wish you wouldn't be such a bear." "Bear, eh?" said Brother William, with a disappointed look. "Why, I was only going to kiss you, lass. All right," he said, smiling again. "But she mustn't think of having a sweetheart, Martha Betts, or he'll be wanting to hug her too." Brother William's face was a study as he let off this, to his way of thinking, very facetious remark. His bountiful smile expanded into an extremely broad grin, and he looked to Martha Betts for approval, but only to encounter so stern and grave a look, that his smile grew stiff, then hard, then faded away into an expression of pain, which in turn gave way to one that was stolid solemnity frozen hard. "It's a nice day, ain't it?" he said at last, to break the unpleasant silence that had fallen upon the little group, as they walked on between hedges bright with wild-roses, and over which the briony twined its long strands and spread its arrowy leaves. There was the scent of the sweet meadow-plant as it raised its creamy blossoms from every moist ditch; and borne on the breeze came the low sweet music of the weir.