All close they met again, before the dusk
Had taken from the stars its pleasant veil;
Close in a bower of hyacinth and musk,
Unknown of any, from whispering tale.
Ah! better had it been for ever so,
Than idle ears should pleasure in their woe.

KEATS.


It was within a week off Christmas, and at Haddon all was in confusion
and disorder amid the preparations for the forthcoming wedding.
Manners had now relinquished all hope of Sir George ever relenting,
and he waited with feverish impatience the time when, once more, he
might clasp his darling to his heart, and pour again into her ears the
oft-told story of his undiminished love.

He longed to see her again, or to be seen by her, even though no words
were spoken; for he had been away awhile, and though he had bidden
Roger send Dorothy word of his absence through Lettice, yet he feared
lest the message had not been delivered, and she would feel alarmed at
his being away.

Ill news awaited his return. Dorothy was to go away with Margaret,
for she was ill, and Benedict had prescribed a change of air. He was
desperate, and in his desperation he was prepared to hazard anything
which promised the remotest chance of success; but alas! his ventures,
while resulting harmlessly, brought him no nearer the goal of his
ambition than he had been before.