“Don’t stop longer for your fun,” said Mildred, “you’ll surely take cold.  Besides, I can’t have you making any disparaging remarks upon my guardian.”

“Bless my soul! your guardian! how imprudent, to be sure!”—­with a significant twinkle.  “Well, I’m going.  Banfield’s is the nearest house; so we’ll part here.”

The girls went towards the village; and Mark, making vigorous strides across the meadow, took a straight line for Banfield’s.  Near the house is a piece of woods,—­one corner of the leafy mantle that covers the hill slipped down its side and trailing upon the borders of the fertile field below.  Just as he passed the woods he saw Hugh Branning letting down the bars and leading his pony out into the road.  The only bridle-path through the woods led over the hill to the little house on the westerly slope, where lived Dame Ransom, Lucy’s bowed and wrinkled grandmother.  Mark wondered not a little where the midshipman had been; but as he still retained the memory of the old quarrel, he did not accost him, and presently thought no more of it.  Reaching the house, he got some dry clothes and then went home with bounding steps.  The earth was never so beautiful nor the sky so benign.  The cloud of doubt had furled off and left his heaven blue.  He had spoken and found that the dream of his boyhood and the hope of his youth had become the proud triumph of his manhood.  Mildred Kinloch loved him! loved him as sincerely as when they were both children!  What higher felicity was to be thought of?  And what a motive for exertion had he now!  He would be worthy of her, and the world should acknowledge that the heiress had not stooped when she mated with him.

CHAPTER IX.

Mrs. Kinloch was surprised at finding that neither Hugh nor Mildred, nor yet Lucy Ransom, was in the house.

Mildred came home first and was not accompanied by Hugh, as Mrs. Kinloch had hoped.  He had not found her, then,—­perhaps he had not sought for her.  Next Lucy returned, coming through the garden which stretched up the hill.  Being questioned, she answered that she had been to her grandmother’s, and had come back the nearest way over the hill, through the woods.

“What had she gone for after the fatigue of washing-day?”

“Because Squire Clamp, who owned the house her grandmother lived in, wanted her to take a message.”

Mrs. Kinloch began to become interested.  “Squire Clamp!” she exclaimed,—­“when did you see him?”

“He called here yesterday evening,—­on his way to Mr. Hardwick’s, I guess.”

“Why didn’t he ask me if you could go?  I think he’s pretty free to send my girls about the town on his errands.”

“You were out, Ma’am,—­in the next house; and after he’d gone I forgot it.”

“You remembered it to-day, it seems.”

“Yes’m; after dinner I thought of it and hurried right off; but granny was sick and foolish, and didn’t want to let me come away, so I couldn’t get back as quick as I meant to.”