He knew that if he were to go to Queen's Chase and ask permission to woo her, it would be refused him--she would be kept away from him and hurried away to Germany. That was the honest, honorable course, but he felt sure it was hopeless to pursue it. Man of the world as he was, the first idea of an elopement startled him; then he became accustomed to it, and began at last to think an elopement would be quite a romance and a sensation. So, by degrees he broke it to her. She was startled at first, and then, after a time, became accustomed to it. It would be very easy, soon over, and when they were once married his mother would say nothing; if the Vaughans were wise, they too would be willing to forgive and say nothing. He found Hyacinth so simple, so innocent and credulous, that he had no great difficulty in persuading her. If any thought of remorse came to him--that, as the stronger of the two he was betraying his trust--he quickly put the disagreeable reflection away--he intended to be very kind to her after they were married, and to make her very happy. So he waited in some anxiety for the signal. It was not a matter of life or death with him; neither did he consider it as such; but he was very anxious, and hoped she would consent. The library window could be seen from the park; he had but to walk across it, and then he could see. Claude Lennox was almost ashamed to find how his heart beat, and how nervously his eyes sought the window. "I did not think I could care about anything so much," he said to himself; "I begin to respect myself for being capable of such devotion." It was early on Wednesday morning, but he had not been able to sleep. Would she go, or would she refuse? How many hours of suspense must he pass before he knew? The sun was shining gayly, the dew lay on the grass--it was useless to imagine that she would be thinking of her flowers; yet he could not leave the place--he must know. At one moment his hopes were raised to the highest point--it was not likely that she would refuse. She would never be so foolish as to choose a life of gloom and wretchedness instead of the golden future he had offered her. Then again his heart sunk. An elopement! It was such a desperate step; she would surely hesitate before taking it. He walked to the end of the park, and then he returned. His heart beat so violently when he raised his eyes that it seemed to him as if he could hear it--a dull red flush rose to his face, his lips quivered. He had won--the white flowers were there! There was no one to see him, but he raised his Glengarry cap from his head and waved it in the air. "I have won," he said to himself; "now for my arrangements." He went back to Oakton Park in a fever of anxiety; he telegraphed from Oakton Station to the kind old aunt who had never refused him a favor, asking her, for particular reasons which he would explain afterward, to meet him at Euston Square at 6 A.M. on Thursday.