the parlour door. These household contrivances appeared to interest
Margery much more than the great question of dressing for the
ceremony and the ceremony itself. In all relating to that she showed
an indescribable backwardness, which later on was well remembered.

'If it were only somebody else, and I was one of the bridesmaids, I
really think I should like it better!' she murmured one afternoon.

'Away with thee--that's only your shyness!' said one of the
milkmaids.

It is said that about this time the Baron seemed to feel the effects
of solitude strongly. Solitude revives the simple instincts of
primitive man, and lonely country nooks afford rich soil for wayward
emotions. Moreover, idleness waters those unconsidered impulses
which a short season of turmoil would stamp out. It is difficult to
speak with any exactness of the bearing of such conditions on the
mind of the Baron--a man of whom so little was ever truly known--but
there is no doubt that his mind ran much on Margery as an individual,
without reference to her rank or quality, or to the question whether
she would marry Jim Hayward that summer. She was the single lovely
human thing within his present horizon, for he lived in absolute
seclusion; and her image unduly affected him.

But, leaving conjecture, let me state what happened.

One Saturday evening, two or three weeks after his accidental meeting
with her in the wood, he wrote the note following:-