"Oh, I know better. It is indeed high time I ran away from you." "How can you be so cruel? I wish you would not talk like this," he protested. "All the same, it's perfectly true. But," looking at him with sweet moist eyes, "you do believe I am very grateful for all your kind consideration for me." "Oh, don't!" he passionately implored. "If you say more, I shall- But there, I am not fair to you." And with an effort restraining himself as he took her hand in his own-"I seem somehow to have made a great deal out of nothing. Pardon me. Shall we start?" She recovered herself at once. "Yes, by all means. We will make our venture.' "Together?" "Yes, together," she made answer. "So be it," he muttered below his breath. "The words have a good augury." CHAPTER IV. The pair progressed very much better than they had expected. The sun came out, and its warmth hardened the snow and made walking easy; the air, too, felt delightfully fresh and buoyant, with just that pleasant feeling of cold that was sharp and invigorating without being bitter. The two laughed and talked, and might (so intimate had they become) have been taken for friends of quite old standing, so much can circumstances effect in a short time. The path they were pursuing led over the fields, two men with the impedimenta being some way in advance. "I suppose, said Miss Raymond, "there's no chance of our disappearing in a snowdrift." 66 No; the show has fallen less heavily here, or it has been blown below. You see our path is along rising ground." "But does it not descend ?" "Not much; and where it does, if there's any risk we will leave the road and find a higher track. I expect every minute we shall meet my sister," "Oh, I hope she won't venture." "She is sure to do so. The only thing is, the messenger may have been delayed, and certainly there's "Don't you think children are much better off now than they used to be? I mean," shewent on, they have all sorts of charming books now, which I am sure I never had when I was a child." "What an immense time ago that must have been !" he said, with an amused look. "Indeed it was. Do you know how old I am, sir?" "Well, let me see. I must really have time to consider." "Nonsense! I am nineteen : ing at him, as if daring him to jest "That's all very well," and again moving onward, "but you thought I was much younger, I am quite sure." "Truly I did not. But you will allow," he added, maliciously, "that even your great age is not so far removed from chilhood." "Captain Woolcombe, do you remember that this time yesterday we were not aware of each other's existence?" "Well, even so. We know each other now. At any rate, I know you, I'm glad to say." "What can you know of me in such a few hours?" "Quite enough to satisfy me. I feel as if I had been acquainted "And what may your great age with you for years." be?" she saucily demanded. "So, as we have made peace again, tell me if I am not right as to the advantages children of the present day enjoy." Certainly, I think you are. All I can recollect was about Jack and Jill, Old Mother Hubbard, and the cow jumping over the moon." "Yes," she laughed assentingly; "and they had such dreadful pictures." "Ghastly; all red and blue and green. My old nurse had some legend she used to sing to me, but it never got further than the first two lines: I'll tell you a story Why, have I said anything to "No; really not," laughed Miss Raymond; "but what you said in a way struck me." "What on earth did I say?" he asked, in dismay. "And so I feel," said she, quite naively. "Is it not strange ?" "Oh, don't say that." Let us come back to what we were speaking about. We were talking of some rhyme, I think," she presently remarked. "Oh yes; about Jack and Minory. Surely no one could have had such a name." ever "There's the Minories, you know," she suggested. "Yes; but that's not Minory. And besides, Minories is the name of a street, I think." I don't know why it is called the Minories, but perhaps the gentleman who gave his name to the street called his daughter Minory." "Oh, you think it is a girl's name? The question is whether it really is a name." "Oh, I am sure it is that is," with some confusion, "I fancy it must be." "I can't imagine a pretty girl going about with such a name. "Nor can I," replied the lady, demurly. "But," looking up to him, and as quickly away, "a plain girl might." "Yes," he assented, as if regarding it judicially from this point of view; "a plain girl might do anything." "It is clear you don't like the name ?" "I don't know," he replied. "There's a quaintness about it. The name would rather set off a plain girl." at her touch, falling in after her; and there she was, her upturned face not two inches from a blond moustache, which, for a second or so, seemed unable, so nonplussed was its owner with his somersault, "Wouldn't it! That idea never to move to either one side or the "And now," he asked, "will you tell me what your name is ?" "I am Miss Raymond." other! The pair burst into a peal of hearty laughter, and at once Woolcombe scrambled to his feet, making many apologies for his "Yes, 1 know; but what is clumsiness. your Christian name?" "Indeed all the apologies should "It begins with an M; see if be on my side," said Miss Ray "I'm glad it isn't Millicent ; that always goes to Milly. Is it Muriel? Wrong again! Hang it! it can't be Martha ?" "No, it isn't Martha." mond, as she hastily swept off the snow from her hair, while the gentleman beside her did his best to clean her dress. "How stupid of me to have stumbled and to have dragged you down also!" "I ought to have been more on the look-out. I hope," he anxiously asked, "you are not hurt?" "Not a bit, thanks." Then turning around : of my hair?" "Is the snow out It seemed to take a long time to decide this, but at last Captain "Of course it couldn't be Mar- Woolcombe, after pointing tha. And not Minnie?" No, not Minnie." out several minute specks, which the lady removed with all gravity, an "Then I'm dead beat. Please nounced that he could see no more. come to my rescue." "Do you know you have once said it this morning? No! I must positively leave you to find out what it is." "But why won't you tell me?" "Because it's really too absurd —I can't." "What a lot must have got in !" said Miss Raymond. "Oh, a tremendous lot! "And I'm all tidy now?" "You are perfection. Why," suddenly looking up, "I declare if there isn't Cicely, and Mrs Beaufort, and Harry Jocelyn! Oh, I quite forgot to tell you he and Cicely are engaged." The trio now came up. "Oh, Minory!" cried out Mrs Beaufort, warmly kissing Miss Raymond. "How glad I am to see you, child! Let me look at you. Why, you are grown out of all knowledge." "Dear Kate, think of the years it is since we met." "Of course I forget. My dear est girl, what a dreadful time you must have had of it!" "Captain Woolcombe has been so very kind to me," said Miss Raymond, with much feeling, to Cicely, who was now introduced to her. "I cannot tell you all his thoughtful care has done for me. I fear I have been a great burden to him." "Well, we have you now," broke in Mrs Beaufort. "Do you know, we sent the brougham for you last night, and it got perfectly engulted in a drift, and the coachman had to take the horse out and leave it. They have gone now to see if it can be dragged home. What you must have gone through on such a night! We were in perfect despair about you." "Pray, don't commiserate me. Captain Woolcombe came to my aid, like a knight of romance; and indeed," she added, as she went on alone with Mrs Beaufort, "you cannot imagine all the trouble he took to secure my comfort." "Just like him. He is a dear, good fellow, and I believe is perfectly adored in his regiment. And now to get you home as soon as possible." "Yes; but all my things are at the station, except what the men are carrying." "We sent for them, my dear. We fully intended to get you over somehow. We have the house full of people, and we must do our best to amuse ourselves. You don't know the Manor House ?" "My dear Kate, I've never been here before in my life." "I quite forgot. Well, we had to suddenly leave the Hall. The smells were something too dreadful. The Manor House is my brother's place, and I act hostess. Jack Woolcombe's sister, as that nice girl behind, is engaged to him. Is it not jolly that we shall keep her close to us?" And so they chatted on; and reaching the Manor House without further mishap, Miss Raymond was shown into a very charming room, where, to her delight, her boxes had been already conveyed. Coming down-stairs just before lunch, she met Captain Woolcombe for an instant. "Why would you not tell me your name, Miss Raymond?" he asked, reproachfully. "I would rather have heard it from you." "How could I tell that?" she murmured. "And besides," with more confidence, "it's such an absurd name." "Indeed it is not," he rejoined. "It's the quaintest name I ever heard." "Is it? I don't know that," she doubtfully answered. "But you see it's the only one I've got, so I have to make the best of it." Just then Cicely Woolcombe, quite unaware any one was in the room, came in humming in an audible tone the old rhyme "I'll tell you a story Of Jack and Minory;" -and then, perceiving her brother and his late guest, she ran again precipitately. out Miss Raymond turned aside to conceal her confusion. "Well, it's perfectly true, Miss Raymond, that she now can tell a story of Jack and-and Minory." "What story?" asked the girl in a nervous tremor. But here, to her great relief, a crowd of people came streaming into the room, and the colloquy, to Woolcombe's evident chagrin and to Minory's intense relief, was broken off. CHAPTER V. The Manor House was filled with guests. The home party was in itself a large one, consisting of the Beauforts, père et femme (Tom and Kate); Mrs Beaufort's brother, Harry Jocelyn, the owner of the property; their brother Dick, a youngster just on the eve of going to Woolwich; with two of the Beauforts' children-Maud, aged about six, and a small boy. Then there is Harry Jocelyn's fiancée, Cicely Woolcombe, and her two brothers, Jack and Trevor, the last having turned up Christmas night. In addition, we have to add to the count Sir Piers and Lady Gore; a pretty widow, Mrs Evesham; Miss Raymond and two Miss Mashams; a Major Clayton, and two subalterns from the garrison town, completing the circle, some being the guests of Jocelyn, and the remainder having flitted over from the Hall. on The snow still lay on the ground, but the weather was fine and the air clear and brisk; and as the ice on the Long Pond was bearing beautifully, the greater part of each day was spent in skating, while the nights were devoted to such amusements as the whim of the moment brought about. Somehow Woolcombe could seldom manage, in a house so full of people, to get more than a few minutes alone with Minory; and over and over again, when he thought he had secured her for himself, there would be an inrush of children or of some of the party in the house. He managed to be with her as much as possible on the ice, though, as she skated very well, and skating was an accomplishment he had never gone in for, they were of necessity soon separated, Miss Raymond being swept off by the crowd of eager aspirants for the honour of her hand as she flew along through the frosty air. On the fourth day of her stay, however, Minory, shaking herself free from the others, found herself, close to poor Jack, who was indeed making but very slow headway. He was feeling depressed-in fact, had shown he was so all day; and the girl reproaching herself for having appeared to desert him, though this she had never intended, came from behind and softly mentioned his name. "Ah, you there!" he gladly made response, at once brightening up. "You see I can't get on at all." Then changing the subject: "I see so little of you now, with all these people about." "Is it my fault?" she shyly made response. "Indeed I have not meant to treat you so badlyyou to whom I owe so much," "Owe me!" "Yes. But let me help you. Now lean on my arm and strike out." "My dear Miss Raymond, it is no good. I shall be down to a certainty, and bring you down too. No; I can't risk giving you a tumble." "Then I'll tell you what I will do. You sit down on this chair, and I'll push you to the very end." "If I agree, it is because it's the honest truth," he said, with a rueful visage. "I am so mortally tired with these infer- I mean, these vile skates, I can hardly stand." "Of course you must be. Now, are you ready?" 66 No; please wait a second. I'll just get rid of these things if I may. They are no good. Will you give me a minute's grace?" |