The road to the Elfin’s Well ran through the wildest parts of the park; and after an hour and a half’s drive they reached the fairy spot. It was a beautiful and pellucid spring, that bubbled up in a small wild dell, which, nurtured by the flowing stream, was singularly fresh and green. Above the spring had been erected a Gothic arch of grey stone, round which grew a few fine birch-trees. In short, nature had intended the spot for picnics. There was fine water, and an interesting tradition; and as the parties always bring, or always should bring, a trained punster, champagne, and cold pasties, what more ought Nature to have provided? “Come, Mrs. Lorraine, I will tie Gypsey to this ash, and then you and I will rest ourselves beneath these birch-trees, just where the fairies dance.” “Oh, delightful!” “Now, truly, we should have some book of beautiful poetry to while away an hour. You will blame me for not bringing one. Do not. I would sooner listen to your voice; and, indeed, there is a subject on which I wish to ask your particular advice.” “Is there?” “I have been thinking that this is a somewhat rash step of the Marquess; this throwing himself into the arms of his former bitterest enemy, Cleveland.” “You really think so?” “Why, Mrs. Lorraine, does it appear to you to be the most prudent course of action which could have been conceived?” “Certainly not.” “You agree with me, then, that there is, if not cause for regret at this engagement, at least for reflection on its probable consequences?” “I quite agree with you.” “I know you do. I have had some conversation with the Marquess upon this subject this very morning.” “Have you?” eagerly exclaimed the lady, and she looked pale and breathed short. “Ay; and he tells me you have made some very sensible observations on the subject. ‘Tis pity they were not made before Mr. Cleveland left; the mischief might then have been prevented.” “I certainly have made some observations.” “And very kind of you. What a blessing for the Marquess to have such a friend!” “I spoke to him,” said Mrs. Felix, with a more assured tone, “in much the same spirit as you have been addressing me. It does, indeed, seem a most imprudent act, and I thought it my duty to tell him so.” “Ay, no doubt; but how came you, lady fair, to imagine that _I_ was also a person to be dreaded by his Lordship; _I_, Vivian Grey!” “Did I say _you_?” asked the lady, pale as death. “Did you not, Mrs. Felix Lorraine? Have you not, regardless of my interests, in the most unwarrantable and unjustifiable manner; have you not, to gratify some private pique which you entertain against Mr. Cleveland; have you not, I ask you, poisoned the Marquess’ mind against one who never did aught to you but what was kind and honourable?” “I have been imprudent; I confess it; I have spoken somewhat loosely.”