His victory could only be confided to Charlie, who might laugh, but fully appreciated the repose of mind with which he could now encounter the examiners, and promised to do his part to cover the meetings of the lovers the next day.  But even then the chances of another performance on the lake, or of a walk among the icicles afterwards, were departing.  Thaw was setting in and by breakfast-time there was a down-pouring rain.  Frank lingered about Cecil in hopes of a message to serve as an excuse for a rush to Sirenwood; but she proved to be going to drive to the working-room, and then to lunch at Mrs. Duncombe’s, to meet the Americans and the ladies from Sirenwood, according to a note sent over in early morning at first sight of the wet.

Thereupon Frank found he had a last reference to make to his tutor, and begged for a lift.  A touch of warmth in Cecil would have opened the flood-gates of his confidence, but she was exercised about a mistake in the accounts, and claimed his aid in tracking a defective seven-pence.  When she heard him utter the monstrous statement that a hundred and five farthings were almost nine shillings, she looked at him with withering compassion, as sure to fail, and a small loss to Her Majesty; nor would she listen to any of his hints that he was very curious to see her working-room.

His question to the tutor judiciously lasted till twelve, when he dropped in to consult Captain Duncombe about horse-hire in London; and that gentleman, who had been undergoing a course of political economy all the morning, eagerly pounced on him for a tour of his stables, which lasted till luncheon was due, and he could casually enter the dining-room, where Lady Tyrrell held out her hand good-naturedly to him, laughing at the blankness he could not entirely conceal.  “Only me!” she said.  “It can’t be helped!  Poor Lenore caught such a dreadful sore throat last night, that I have shut her up in her room with a mustard poultice.”

“Indeed!  I am very sorry.”

“You may well look horrified!  You were the guilty party, I suspect.  Taking her all across the park under those dank trees!”

He coloured up to the eyes, little expecting to be thus convicted; but Mrs. Duncombe came to his aid.  “My impartiality would impute the damage to her standing about with those wretched little dogs of mine.”

“It is your climate,” said Mrs. Tallboys.  “In our dry atmosphere there would be no risk with a far lower temperature.”

“I hope it is nothing serious,” said Frank, anxiously.

“I hope so too,” said Lady Tyrrell, looking archly into his face, which had not learnt such impenetrability as poor Lenore’s.

“No; but really?” he said, in anxiety that would not be rallied away.

“This is the way,” said Lady Tyrrell.  “Young gentlemen persuade young ladies to do the most imprudent things—­saunter about in the cold after skating, and dawdle under trees, and then wonder when they catch cold.—­Do they do such things in your country, Mrs. Tallboys, and expect the mammas and elder sisters to be gratified?”