"What, Winifred?" "Think sometimes of Craigaderyn--of to-day--and of me, perhaps," she added, with a laugh that sounded strangely unlike one. "Do I require aught to make me think of you?" said I, patting kindly the plump, ungloved hand with which she was caressing the goat's head, and which in whiteness rivalled the hue of his glossy coat; and thereon I saw a Conway pearl, in a ring I had given her long ago, when she was quite a little girl. "I hope not--and papa--I hope not." The bright beaming face was upturned to me, and, as the deuce would have it, I kissed her: the impulse was irresistible. She trembled then, withdrew a pace or two, grew very pale, and her eyes filled with tears. "You should not have done that, Harry--I mean, Mr. Hardinge." There was something wild and pitiful in her face. "Tears?" said I, not knowing very well what to say; for "people often _do_ say very little, when they mean a great deal." "My old favourite will know the black ladders of Carneydd Llewellyn no more," said she, stooping over the goat caressingly to hide her confusion. "But, Winifred--Miss Lloyd--why tears?" "Can you ask me?" said she, her eyes flashing through them. "Why, what a fuss you make! I have often done so--when a boy!" "But you are no longer a boy; nor am I a girl, Mr. Hardinge." "Do please call me Harry, like Sir Madoc," I entreated. "Not now--after this; and here comes Lady Estelle." "Estelle!" At that moment, not far from us, we saw Lady Naseby, driven in a pony-phaeton by Caradoc, and Lady Estelle with Guilfoyle a little way behind them, on horseback, and unaccompanied by any groom, coming sweeping at a trot down the wooded glen. Such is the amusing inconsistency of the human heart--the male human heart, perhaps my lady readers will say--that though I had been more than flirting with Winifred Lloyd--on the eve of becoming too tender, perhaps--I felt a pang of jealousy on seeing that Guilfoyle was Lady Estelle's sole companion, for Dora was doubtless immersed in the details of her forthcoming fête. Had she seen us? Had she detected in the distance that little salute? If so, in the silly, kindly, half-flirting, and half-affectionate impulse which led me to kiss my beautiful companion and playfellow of the past years--the mere impulse of a moment--if mistaken, I might have ruined myself with her--perhaps with both. "A lovely animal'! I hope you are gratified, Mr. Hardinge?" said Lady Estelle, with--but perhaps it was fancy--a curl on her red lip, as she reined-in her spirited horse sharply with one firm hand, and caressed his arching neck gracefully with the other, while he rose on his hind legs, and her veil flew aside.