‘Not unless his own wishes went the same way.’

‘At least, Lord Ormersfield will see Miss Conway!’

’I am afraid that will do no good.  It will not be for the first time.  Lady Conway has been his dread from the time of his own marriage; and if she should come to Northwold, he will be in despair.  I do think he must be right; she must be making a dead set at Louis.’

‘Not Miss Conway,’ said Mary.  ’I know she must be good, or he would not endure her for a moment.’

‘Mary, you do not know the power of beauty.’

‘I have heard of it,’ said Mary; ’I have seen how Dona Guadalupe was followed.  But those people were not like Louis.  No, mamma; I think James might be taken in, I don’t think Louis could be—­unless he had a very grand dream of his own before his eyes; and then it would be his own dream, not the lady that he saw; and by-and-by he would find it out, and be so vexed!’

‘And, I trust, before he had committed himself!’

’Mamma, I won’t have you think Miss Conway anything but up to his dreams!  I know she is.  Only think what Jane Drummond says of her!’

When the idea of going to see how matters stood had once occurred to the Earl, he could not stay at home:  the ankle and the affections preyed on him by turns, and he wrote to Sir Miles Oakstead to fix an earlier day for the promised visit, as well as to his son, to announce his speedy arrival.  Then he forgot the tardiness of cross-country posts, and outran his letter, so that he found no one to meet him at Bickleypool; and on driving up to the gate at Ebbscreek, found all looking deserted.  After much knocking, Priscilla appeared, round-eyed and gasping, and verified his worst fears with ’Gone to Bochattle.’  However, she explained that only one gentleman was gone to dine there; the other was rowing him round the point, with grandfather;—­they would soon be back—­indeed they ought, for the tide was so low, they would have to land down by the shingle bar.

She pointed out where the boat must come in; and thither the Earl directed his steps, feeling as if he were going to place himself under a nutmeg-grater, as he thought how James Frost would receive the implied distrust of his guardianship.

The sunset gleam was fading on the sleepy waves that made but a feint of breaking, along the shining expanse of moist uncovered sand, when two figures were seen progressing from the projecting rocks, casting long shadows before them.  Lord Ormersfield began to prepare a mollifying address—­but, behold!  Was it the effect of light so much to lengthen Jem’s form? nay, was it making him walk with a stick?  A sudden, unlooked-for hope seized the Earl.  The next minute he had been recognised; and in the grasping hands and meeting eyes, all was forgotten, save the true, fond affection of father and son.

‘I did not expect this pleasure.  They told me you were dining out.’