Within that week the house party at Hollyoaks broke up. Mr. and Mrs. Marshall returned to their own house, which was only four miles away; Jennie Brawn went back to Bedford-park and the family of nine; and Geoffrey Heron took his way to his London Chambers. So Ruth was left to the society of her father, and she made up her mind that she would say no more about Neil. Indeed, she half intimated to Mr. Cass that she might, after all, marry her other lover--an intimation which delighted the worthy merchant beyond words. "You are a sensible girl after all, Ruth," he said. "Believe me, you would do wisely. You see my love, you could not have been really in love with Webster, since you have so soon forgotten him." She answered him meekly enough. "I daresay you are right, papa, Neil has behaved very badly to me, and I think no more of him." "Poor fellow," sighed Mr. Cass! "Really, papa," exclaimed the girl, "you are difficult to please. At your desire I have given him up: now you think I have treated him badly." "My dear, I said nothing of the sort," protested the embarrassed Mr. Cass. "All the same, I wish he had not set his heart on you." "Oh, he has not done that, or he would not have been so ready to give me up." "My dear, you do not understand." Ruth went away thinking over this last speech. "No," she murmured to herself, "I do not understand, but I shall soon. I ought to hear from Geoffrey in a few days. After all, I am really beginning to think I like him better than Neil. What Jennie said was quite right, although I would not for the world acknowledge it to her. I am not the wife for a man like him. I want to be considered, and I am sure Geoffrey would do all in his power to please me and to make me happy. Neil? Well, I think he might have been rather a trial." A week after Neil's departure, Mr. Cass received a letter from him which caused the worthy merchant much perplexity. He shut himself up in his library to think it over. Webster had gone away with the fullest intention of proving his mother's innocence, yet this short letter intimated that he had abandoned the idea. "I have seen my mother," he wrote, "and I see it is best to take your advice and let sleeping dogs lie. I am going abroad shortly, and it is not likely that I shall see you for many months. Never again will I come to your house; and I only hope that you will impress upon Ruth the necessity of forgetting me as speedily as possible. I cannot trust myself to see her again, so I must leave this task to you."