Francis Hogarth met, by appointment, his cousin Jane at Peggy Walker’s, where she meant to bid him good-bye, but he was not disposed to do so.

“You must come to Cross Hall, just to give a look at it before you bid the country farewell for ever.  Mr. Phillips, do come round by Cross Hall, and let Jane see her old home once more.”

“I want so much to see Cross Hall, that Alice tells us such pretty stories about,” said Emily.

“Cross Hall! is that the name of your place?” said Mrs. Phillips.  “I would like to see it too, very much.  Mr. Phillips will go, of course, if we all wish it.”

Jane expected to suffer something in this farewell visit.  It was not to be long, but it must be trying.  Francis was cruel to ask it, and Mr. Phillips inconsiderate to accept of his invitation.  There were some things to be done that were not painful.  When they left the train and got into Francis’ carriage—­which was her uncle’s old one, in which she had been used to ride—­for a five-miles drive, they passed the gates of Moss Tower, and saw William Dalzell and his young wife riding out, and bowed to both.  Then they went to Allendale, for Miss Thomson had expressed the strongest wish to see Miss Melville before her departure for Australia, and Jane, too, was very much pleased to see again one whom she held in such high esteem.  There, for the first time, she saw Mr. Sinclair, whose appearance and conversation were quite equal to her expectations; but even he was not so great an object of curiosity to her as Mary Forrester—­a niece of Miss Thomson’s several years older than the girl who had got her new frock at Mrs. Dunn’s, in Elsie’s time.  Mary was then on a visit to her aunt, and apparently had the charge of two lovely children, cousins of her own, and grand-nephew and niece of Miss Thomson’s.  Their parents had gone a voyage in search of health, and Aunt Margaret had invited them to spend the winter at Allendale, and cousin Mary to keep them company.  Jane thought she had never seen a more charming girl than Mary, who was evidently a great favourite with her aunt and Mr. Sinclair.  Frank, intelligent, and graceful, she looked like a sunbeam in the house.  The little Phillipses knew at once that she liked children, and wondered if she knew any of the delightful stories and ballads for which Elsie was famed.  The little Munroes would take the Australians out of doors to see the poultry and the wonderful peacock, so Mary and Jane accompanied their charges.  Mary had heard so much of Jane that she was disposed to be interested in her, while a new tide of ideas flowed into Jane’s mind in relation to this stranger.  In all probability this was the girl to whom Francis was likely to become attached when she left the country.  And now that it was no unseen, and perhaps impossible, person whom she was to fancy as his wife, but a really pretty and amiable girl, did the thought now give her pain or awaken any sharp pang of jealousy?  Her heart filled with many emotions at the thought, agitating and painful enough, but there was no jealousy.  The more she fancied that Francis could love her, the more Jane felt that she must love her too.