strongly suspected from his manner that he had no great zest for the
responsibility of escorting her.

But he little knew the firmness of the young woman he had to deal
with. She was one of those soft natures whose power of adhesiveness
to an acquired idea seems to be one of the special attributes of that
softness. To go to a ball with this mysterious personage of romance
was her ardent desire and aim; and none the less in that she trembled
with fear and excitement at her position in so aiming. She felt the
deepest awe, tenderness, and humility towards the Baron of the
strange name; and yet she was prepared to stick to her point.

Thus it was that the afternoon of the eventful day found Margery
trudging her way up the slopes from the vale to the place of
appointment. She walked to the music of innumerable birds, which
increased as she drew away from the open meads towards the groves.

She had overcome all difficulties. After thinking out the question
of telling or not telling her father, she had decided that to tell
him was to be forbidden to go. Her contrivance therefore was this:
to leave home this evening on a visit to her invalid grandmother, who
lived not far from the Baron's house; but not to arrive at her
grandmother's till breakfast-time next morning. Who would suspect an
intercalated experience of twelve hours with the Baron at a ball?
That this piece of deception was indefensible she afterwards owned
readily enough; but she did not stop to think of it then.

It was sunset within Chillington Wood by the time she reached Three-
Walks-End--the converging point of radiating trackways, now floored
with a carpet of matted grass, which had never known other scythes