uncle calls it--nay, I am sure it was not; for I abhor him as much as any one; but I thought that as there was no chance of my ever being driven to marry him, I could bear the infliction of his conversation better than my poor sister." "The motive was a kind one, at all events," replied Sir Edward Digby; "but then I may firmly believe that there is no chance whatever of Miss Croyland giving her hand to Richard Radford?" "None--none whatever," answered his fair companion. But at that point of their conversation one of the windows above was thrown up, and the voice of Mrs. Barbara was heard exclaiming--"Zara, my love, put on your hat; you will catch cold if you walk in that way, with your hat on your arm, in such a cold, misty morning!" Miss Croyland looked up, nodding to her aunt; and doing as she was told, like a very good girl as she was. But the next instant she said, in a low tone, "Good Heaven! there is his face at the window! My unlucky aunt has roused him by calling to me; and we shall not be long without him." "Who do you mean?" asked the young officer, turning his eyes towards the house, and seeing no one. "Young Radford," answered Zara. "Did you not know that they had to carry him to bed last night, unable to stand? So my maid told me; and I saw his face just now at the window, next to my aunt's. We shall have little time, Sir Edward, for he is as intrusive as he is disagreeable; so tell me at once what I am to think regarding poor Harry Leyton. Does he still love Edith? Is he in a situation to enable him to seek her, without affording great, and what they would consider reasonable, causes of objection?" "He loves her as deeply and devotedly as ever," replied Sir Edward Digby; "and all I have to tell him will but, if possible, increase that love. Then as to his situation, he is now a superior officer in the army, highly distinguished, commanding one of our best regiments, and sharing largely in the late great distribution of prize-money. There is no position that can be filled by a military man to which he has not a right to aspire; and, moreover, he has already received, from the gratitude of his king and his country, the high honour----" But he was not allowed to finish his sentence; for Mrs. Barbara Croyland, who was most unfortunately matutinal in her habits, now came out with a shawl for her fair niece, and was uncomfortably civil to Sir Edward Digby, inquiring how he had slept, whether he had been warm enough, whether he liked two pillows or one, and a great many other questions, which lasted till young Radford made his appearance at the door, and then, with a pale face and sullen brow, came out and joined the party on the terrace. "Well," said Mrs. Barbara--now that she had done as much mischief as possible--"I'll just go in and make breakfast, as Edith must set out early, and Mr. Radford wants to get home to shoot." "Edith set off early?" exclaimed Zara; "why, where is she going, my dear aunt?"