as much as to mine. I have not seen his home yet; mother would not allow me to go there, and he does not want me to see it just directly, he is getting a surprise ready for me, he says. I have not told Alice and Milly a word about him. Mother did not wish it until papa's return, neither have I mentioned Paul's name to Jack, who did not come home in October after all. Christmas he is to spend with the Lovelaces, and Alice thinks I am going to accompany him there. But indeed I am not; Paul is going to be here, and where he is I shall be.
"It is quite certain," I say aloud, "that he is not coming for ages; he will very likely not be here till luncheon time, and then, of course, mamma and Simpkins will be there, and I shall not be able to speak to him, and———" Here my fortitude gives way, and tears run down my cheeks. "How wasted every minute does seem that I spend away from him!"
"They are something worse than wasted to Paul," says my lover's voice behind me, and as I turn my forlorn countenance to him, he catches me up in his arms, and lifts me from the ground.
When he has wiped my tears away—and it takes a very long while, although I have not shed a single one since he came in—he puts my hat straight, and we go out into the garden, and stroll up and down the gravelled walks, talking the silly, selfish stuff that is vastly entertaining, important, and absorbing to us, but would be flat enough to anybody else.
The world (says Alice and Milly) calls Paul Vasher haughty, cold, proud; if they could only see him now, planning out our married life with all the zest and abandon of a schoolboy out for a holiday!
He is going to teach me to ride, he says; it is to be hoped that his efforts will be crowned with more success than were those of the governor. Not that he took any pains with me, he used to gallop away, and leave me to follow as best I might, and follow I
