Dynevor Terrace, vol 2 | Page 9

before
showing that he approved, but the excitement of the chase betrayed him
into a glow of cordiality, and he shook hands with vehemence.
'That's right!--just in time! Jump in, and come home to breakfast. So
you wouldn't be a party to my Lady's tricks!--just like her--just as she
wheedled poor Conway. I will let her see how I esteem plain dealing! I
don't say that I see my way through this business; but we'll talk it over
together, and settle matters without my Lady.'
James hardly knew where he was, between joy and surprise. The
invitation was extended to his companion; but Fitzjocelyn discerned
that both James and Mr. Mansell would prefer being left to themselves;
he had a repugnance to an immediate discussion with the one aunt, and
was in haste to carry the tidings to the other: and besides, it was

becoming possible that letters might arrive from the travellers.
Actuated by all these motives, he declined the offer of hospitality, and
rowed across to Bickleypool, enlightening the Captain on the state of
affairs as far as he desired.


CHAPTER II
.

THE THIRD TIME.

Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, And you the toast of all the town,
I sighed and said, amang them a', Ye are not Mary Morison. BURNS.
Mrs. Frost and Louis were very merry over the result of Lady Conway's
stratagems, and sat up indulging in bright anticipations until so late an
hour, that Louis was compelled to relinquish his purpose of going home
that night, but he persisted in walking to Ormersfield before breakfast,
that he might satisfy himself whether there were any letters.
It was a brisk October morning, the sportsman's gun and whistle re-
echoing from the hill sides; where here and there appeared the dogs
careering along over green turnip-fields or across amber stubble. The
Little Northwold trees, in dark, sober tints of brown and purple, hung
over the grey wall, tinted by hoary lichen; and as Louis entered the
Ormersfield field paths, and plunged into his own Ferny dell, the long
grass and brackens hung over the path, weighed down with silvery dew,
and the large cavernous web of the autumnal spider was all one thick
flake of wet.
If he could not enter the ravine without thankfulness for his past escape,
neither could he forget gratitude to her who had come to his relief from
hopeless agony! He quickened his pace, in the earnest longing for
tidings, which had seized him, even to heart sickness.
It was the reaction of the ardour and excitement that had so long
possessed him. The victory had been gained--he had been obliged to
leave James to work in his own cause, and would be no longer wanted
in the same manner by his cousin. The sense of loneliness, and of the

want of an object, came strongly upon him as he walked through the
prim old solitary garden, and looked up at the dreary windows of the
house, almost reluctant to enter, as long as it was without Mary's own
serene atmosphere of sympathy and good sense, her precious offices of
love, her clear steady eyes, even in babyhood his trustworthy
counsellors.
Was it a delusion of fancy, acting on reflections in the glass, that, as he
mounted the steps from the lawn, depicted Mary's figure through the
dining-room windows? Nay, the table was really laid for breakfast--a
female figure was actually standing over the tea-chest.
'A scene from the Vicar of Wakefield deluding me,' decided Louis,
advancing to the third window, which was open.
It was Mary Ponsonby.
'Mary!'
'You here?--They said you were not at home!'
'My father!--Where?'
'He is not come down. He is as well as possible. We came at eleven last
night. I found I was not wanted,' added Mary, with a degree of agitation,
that made him conclude that she had lost her father.
One step he made to find the Earl, but too much excited to move away
or to atand still, he came towards her, wrung her hand in a more real
way than in his first bewildered surprise, and exclaimed in transport, 'O
Mary! Mary! to have you back again!' then, remembering his inference,
added, low and gravely, 'It makes me selfish--I was not thinking of
your grief.'
'Never mind,' said Mary, smiling, though her eyes overflowed, 'I must
be glad to be at home again, and such a welcome as this--'
'O Mary, Mary!' he cried, nearly beside himself, 'I have not known
what to do without you! You will believe it now, won't you?'--oh, won't
you?'
Mary would have been a wonderful person had she not instantly and
utterly forgotten all her conclusions from Frampton's having declared
him gone to Beauchastel for an unlimited time;