"Yes sir, thank you kindly," said the keeper; and then, as the captain walked away, he trudged on through the woods, talking to himself. "_Miss Hayle_," he said, and he turned a bit red in the face. "Well, she is good enow for him or any man; but no, no, that would never do. Don't be a fool, Ben, my lad: you don't want trouble to come. Trouble," he muttered, as he half cocked his gun, "why, I'd--bah!" he ejaculated, cooling down; "what's the good o' thinking things like that? Better pepper young Caleb. Damn him! he set me thinking it. Captain's right enough. I like a man who's fond of a bit of sport." As it happened, Captain Rolph was thinking, in a somewhat similar vein, of poachers and dark nights, and opportunities for using a gun upon unpleasant people. But these thoughts were pervaded, too, with bright eyes and cheeks, and he said to himself,-- "He'd better; awkward for him if he does." Volume 1, Chapter II. MARS ON THE HORIZON. In the drawing-room at The Warren, Mrs Rolph, a handsome, dignified lady of five-and-forty, was sitting back, with her brows knit, looking frowningly at a young and pretty girl of nineteen, whose eyes were puzzling, for in one light they seemed beautiful, in another shifting. She was a Rosetti-ish style of girl, with too much neck, a tangle of dark red hair, and lips of that peculiar pout seen in the above artist's pictures, in conjunction with heavily-lidded eyes, and suggesting at one moment infantile retraction from a feeding-bottle, at another parting from the last kiss. There was a want of frankness in her countenance that would have struck a stranger at once, till she spoke, when the soft, winning coo of her voice proved an advocate which made the disingenuous looks and words fade into insignificance. Her voice sounded very sweet and low now, as she said softly,-- "Are you not judging dear Robert too hardly, aunt?" "No, Madge, no. It is as plain as can be; he thinks of nothing else when he comes home--he, a man to whom any alliance is open, to be taken in like that by a keeper's--an ex-poacher's daughter." "Judith is very ladylike and sweet," said Marjorie softly, as if to herself. "Madge, do you want to make me angry?" cried Mrs Rolph, indignantly. "Shame upon you! And it is partly your fault. You have been so cold and distant with him, when a few gentle words would have brought him to your side." "I am sure you would not have liked me to be different towards him. You would not have had me throw myself at his feet." The words were as gentle-sounding as could be, but all the same there was a suggestion of strength behind, if the speaker cared to exert it.