“But her address is his address now, Mr. Conolly.  I think it is somewhere in West Kensington.”

Conolly stopped, and turned upon her so suddenly that she recoiled a step, frightened.

“Since when, pray?”

“Very lately, I think.  I do not know.”

They neither moved nor spoke for some moments:  she earnestly regretting that she had lingered so far behind her companions in the terrible darkness.  He walked on at last faster than before.  No more words passed between them until they came out into the moonlight close to the veranda.  Then he stopped again, and took off his hat.

“Permit me to leave you now,” he said, with an artificial politeness worthy of Douglas himself.  “Good-night.”

“Good-night,” faltered Marian.

He walked gravely away.  Marian hurried into the veranda, where she found Jasper and Elinor.  The other couple had gone into the drawing-room.

“Hallo!” said Jasper, “where is Conolly?  I want to say a word to him before he goes.”

“He has just gone,” said Marian, pointing across the lawn.  Jasper immediately ran out in the direction indicated, and left the two cousins alone together.

“Well, Marian,” said Elinor, “do you know that you have taken more than quarter of an hour longer to come from the plantation than we did, and that you look quite scared?  Our sweet Constance, as the parson calls her, has been making some kind remarks about it.”

“Do I look disturbed?  I hope Auntie wont notice it.  I wish I could go straight to bed without seeing anybody.”

“Why?  What is the matter?”

“I will tell you to-night when you come in to me.  I am disgusted with myself; and I think Conolly is mad.”

“Mad!”

“On my word, I think Conolly has gone mad,” said Lord Jasper, returning at this moment out of breath and laughing.

Elinor, startled, glanced at Marian.

“He was walking quite soberly toward the fence of the yellow field when I caught sight of him.  Just as I was about to hail him, he started off and cleared the fence at a running jump.  He walked away at a furious rate, swinging his arms about, and laughing as if he was enjoying some uncommonly good joke.  I am not sure that I did not see him dance a hornpipe; but as it is so dark I wont swear to that.”

“You had better not,” said Elinor, sceptically.  “Let us go in; and pray do not encourage George to talk.  I have a headache, and want to go to bed.”

“You have been in very good spirits, considering your headache,” he replied, in the same incredulous tone.  “It has come on rather suddenly, has it not?”

When they went into the drawing-room they found that Constance had awakened her mother, and had already given her an account of their walk.  Jasper added a description of what he had just witnessed.  “I have not laughed so much for a long time,” he said, in conclusion.  “He is usually such a steady sort of fellow.”