CHAPTER X.

AT CROSS-PURPOSES.

MISS VERSCHOYLE did not make her appearance in the breakfast-room next morning until nearly ten o'clock. Most of the party had already left, and the remainder were about to follow their example. Mr. Ford was still sitting at the table, in order, as it seemed, to converse with his newly-arrived guest, who had only just commenced breakfast. As Audrey entered the room, Mr. Ford advanced to meet her, and after the usual salutations, led her to the table, saying,

"Miss Verschoyle, you must allow me to introduce Mr. Dynecourt to you, a gentleman to whom I feel very grateful for giving me the pleasure of his company for a short time."

Good Richard Ford uttered these words nervously, fearing that his speech might not convey so much honour as he wished it to do. Gladly would he have sunk into temporary insignificance, if Mr. Dynecourt would have consented to consider that be was still master in his old home. Geoffrey Dynecourt had shrunk from paying this visit; but his voluntary banishment had so visibly pained the new owner, that he determined, in gratitude for the kindness and consideration Mr. Ford had shown him, to overcome this feeling. It was a trial to go as guest where he had lived as master, but it was only one of many, and he began to take rather a pride in conquering his feelings, and forgetting that he had ever been anything but what he now was Geoffrey Dynecourt, barrister of the Inner Temple. Miss Verschoyle acknowledged the pleasure it gave her to meet Mr. Dynecourt, who rose, bowed, and gave her a chair. Then as both looked up to take a closer inspection of each other, their eyes met, and Audrey knew that it was he who had stood listening to her while singing.

"I am fortunate," she said, "in finding a companion, for generally at breakfast I have the full benefit of my own society."

"Why," replied Mr. Dynecourt, "do you so dislike early rising?"

"Oh! I detest it; the family morning meal, when all are assembled at eight or nine o'clock, is a remnant of barbarism, invented doubtless to promote and keep alive discord. Who could feel amiable at

that hour?"

Ford; "for then, my dear sir, you had not seen Miss Verschoyle."

"Mr. Ford is so charmingly old-fashioned," said Audrey, smiling, "that he has not forgotten that the most effectual way of making a woman good-tempered, is to pay her a compliment."

"Do you really think, Miss Verschoyle," asked Mr. Dynecourt, "that ladies set so much value on flattery or compliments?

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Speaking from what I hear most people say, I should most certainly say no; speaking from personal experience, most decidedly yes. I delight in a compliment, and can comfortably digest a very tolerable quantity of wholesome flattery. I often smile, as you are doing now, at this weakness, but it is our nature to,' and we cannot help feeling very kindly towards a man who delicately shows us our superiority. But of course it must be managed skilfully. When it is so, I may know quite well that it is not true; yet I like to hear it, and in a way believe it."

Mr. Dynecourt looked at her steadily. "Ah!" she said, "I know you are pitying my weakness."

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No indeed, I was thinking what an unusual amount of truthfulness you have."

"Are you trying my powers of credulity?" she asked, somewhat scornfully, “because you have already succeeded in overstepping the boundary, and stumbled on a piece of flattery which I cannot swallow."

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Have I?" he answered; "it was quite unintentional. I never pay compliments, that is not my forte."

At this point Miss Bingham came into the room, saying that they had decided upon a charming plan. They were to ramble through the Abbey-Woods, taking luncheon with them for the "Abbot's Rest," then they would return by "The Dame's Farm," get some tea there, and drive back again by dinner-time.

"That will be charming," exclaimed Audrey, turning to Mr. Dynecourt.

"Yes," he said, "I think you have been happy in your arrangements.'

Miss Bingham hastened off to enter more fully into an account of what was to be done; Audrey and Mr. Dynecourt seated themselves on the terrace, and carried on an animated conversation, until Marshall came from Lady Laura, to say that she wished to speak to Miss Verschoyle.

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sure I idolized him; but he ought never to have married me- - I have said so dozens of times to him, and he always agreed with me. I love my children too well ever to expose them to such a life of struggle to keep up appearances as I have had.

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But," said Charles Verschoyle, do you not think you would have been much happier if you had accepted your position, acknowledged yourself unable to compete with your wealthy friends, and contented yourself with the society of those who valued you for yourself? "

"And where, I should like to know, would you have been had I only studied my own case? Really, Charles, I was unprepared for such ingratitude in you, when my one aim has been to maintain and keep my position for my children's sake."

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My dear mother, you know I appreciate all your goodness, but I do dislike being tolerated and patronized, through accepting invitations I can never make any return for."

"Then all I can say is, I am very sorry to hear that my son possesses such a plebeian spirit of independence. A proper pride, which forbids one to make intimates of vulgar people, or to associate with persons one never meets in society, I can appreciate; but to give up the entrée to such houses as stamp your standing in society, because the people don't make a great fuss about you, or be unable to put up with a somewhat rude speech from a person who can get you invited to most of the places other people are dying to be seen at, would be a piece of folly which few well-bred persons, I think, could understand."

Captain Verschoyle smiled as he answered,

"Your ladyship lays too much weight on aristocratic birth and breeding, forgetting that virtue alone is true nobility.""

"Charles, I beg you will not repeat any of those horrid radical sayings to me. You are really growing exactly like that odious old Henry Egerton, who is always preaching about equality. I suppose you will be telling me next that it is my duty to visit with the greengrocer, and to cultivate the society of the butcher and baker, with a view to an ultimate alliance being formed with some of them."

"Well, you know," said her son, slily, "you are giving your consent to one of the family marrying a tradesman."

"I have no patience with you, Charles. If you have not the sense to understand the difference which a colossal fortune makes in the man's position, I give you up. I have never asked, and I have no curiosity to

know, how Mr. Ford made his money. It is enough for me to know that he has it, and that society accepts him on the same terms. I am quite sure that when he is Audrey's husband they will be in a very good set; I shall take care of that. Our family know too well what is due to any member of it not to lend a helping hand. I don't expect your uncle Spencer, nor Lord Towcester, nor any of our aristocratic cousins, to make a boon companion of the man, but I feel certain that they'll ask him to their large entertainments, and make a point of always accepting his invitations to dinner."

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Poor old gentleman!" exclaimed Captain Verschoyle, he won't trouble the family long; he'll soon sink under all the greatness thrust upon him. Do you think that if I were to honour with my hand some daughter of a house gilded but yet defiled by trade, I should be able to insure that my wife would be jostled by the aristocratic elbows assembled at Grantley House, and snubbed by the patrician mouth of Lady Spencer?"

"There can be no occasion for me to an

swer such absurd questions. Besides, I hope your wife will be able to enter society in her own right. The Binghams are an old county family, and distantly connected with Lord Radnor and the Tuftons. I found all that out from Mrs. Winterton."

"Oh! is it decided, then, that Miss Bingham is to be your future daughter-in-law?"

"Well, it will be your own fault if she is not, and I should think you would hardly be so blind as to throw such a chance away; for though you keep your looks remarkably well, you have certainly lost much of the esprit you had some years ago. I wanted to speak to you about Miss Bingham, only we have wasted all our time over this ridiculous discussion. I see now who Mr. Ford was reserving her for."

"And who was that?"

This Mr. Dynecourt he makes so much of. It is not likely he will have a chance with you; but still I should redouble my attentions, and when all is settled between Audrey and Mr. Ford, she can give him a hint not to press the young man to prolong his stay."

"I beg you will do nothing of the kind, mother, for I can assure you it is not at all certain at present that I shall ever wish to dispute any one's claim to the honour of being Miss Bingham's suitor."

Lady Laura saw that her son was not now inclined to listen favourably to her schemes for his marriage, so she wisely resolved to hold her tongue. Professing to be suddenly amazed at the lateness of the hour, she asked

him if it was not time that he should join the rest of the party, whom she was going to see start, for her inclination did not prompt her to accompany them.

Mr. Ford proposed driving to Abbot's Gate, and Audrey volunteered to be his charioteer. As they had to go round a long distance, they started before the pedestrians. The conversation naturally turned upon Mr. Dynecourt, and Audrey heard to her great surprise that he had been the former owner of the property. Mr. Ford grew eloquent while eulogizing the man who had acted so nobly.

"I do not expect you to admire his conduct as I do, Miss Verschoyle, because you have not been brought up to look on an honest, independent spirit as I have; but the man who possesses that, and sufficient perseverance to battle with the world and to conquer, why it is nineteen to one but he'll succeed. Where should I have been but for that? Certainly not sitting beside you, my dear young lady," he added, sobering down, lest he might become too confidential in his enthusiasm. "I tell Mr. Dynecourt he'll die Lord Chancellor yet. I hate going to law, but I should almost snatch an opportunity that I might do him a good turn."

Why," said Audrey, "what is he ?" "A barrister, and a very rising one, too. He has many influential friends, and every sensible man commends his spirit. Some of his other friends wished him to wait and get a diplomatic something, but he preferred doing what he has done, and I honour him."

"Poor fellow!" said Audrey, "what a trial; not only giving the place up, but all the old memories and associations; oh! I do so feel for him."

"So did I, Miss Verschoyle, more than I ever did for any one in my life."

But could nothing be done?" said Audrey; "was he irretrievably ruined? "

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Nothing could be done then; things had been going from bad to worse for generations; the former owners had shut their eyes, and left to their successors the task of amending matters, or of plunging deeper into the mire. I cannot explain it to you, but embarrassments hedged him in completely, so that notwithstanding the enormous sum I paid for the place, Mr. Dynecourt was not able to secure more than suffices to bring him in £500 a year. I tell you this, knowing it will go no further."

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."

Certainly," replied Audrey, "it is safe with me. I am very glad you have told me. "I thought when I did so you would appreciate him," said Mr. Ford, kindly.

"I do, and you too, Mr. Ford; you have a very noble nature."

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Thank you, my dear; that is a compliment which, coming from you, I value very much."

Had Audrey entertained the idea her mother had credited her with, and pursued her opportunity, assuredly she would then have been offered the hand of Richard Ford. But she did not wish that the honour should be presented to her just yet. So, when they reached Abbot's Gate, and had sent the carriage back, she adroitly changed the subject by reminding Mr. Ford that he had never given her an account of the ruin they were going to see at Abbot's Rest. Once launched on his favourite topic, Audrey was safe from all love passages, which, to speak truth, Mr. Ford was very glad to shirk; for he more often wished his companion was his daughter than that she should be his wife. He had no desire to marry; and the only inducement was, that, with the exception of two or three distant cousins, about whom he cared nothing, he had nobody to whom he could leave his wealth. Though he could always gather people round him, yet he was very lonely in the midst of them. And then he was being constantly told that he ought to marry. He had taken a great liking to Audrey; and since she had been his guest his regard had grown daily, until he had made up his mind that if he did marry, she should be his wife. Still he gave a sigh when he thought of this, for notwithstanding his sixty years, his stout figure, and generally common-place appearance, Richard Ford had a seat in his heart which death had left vacant; and it seemed to him something like sacrilege to a memory to fill that place, even in name.

CHAPTER XI. ABBOT'S WALK.

ABBOT'S WALK was a long avenue of beech trees, at the end of which was an old ivy-covered ruin of what had probably been a votive chapel to some saint. Tradition said that the pious abbot, Petrock, had "raised it to that reverend St. German, bishop of Auxerre, whose memorial was so sacred among the Britons, that many churches were dedicated to his memory in this island;" and the good Petrock having gone thither, as was his daily wont, to meditate on the saint's wisdom, "in that he had been one of those who confuted Pelagius's heresy," was found by the monks seemingly in a deep sleep, from which he had never awakened. From that time they had named this peaceful retreat "The Abbot's Rest."