"Are you afraid of these woods?"

"No."

"Of me?"

"No."

"Then, I fear you are angry again."

"I think Barnab—your name is—hateful!"

"Strange!" said Barnabas, "I was just thinking how musical it was—as you say it."

"I—oh! I thought your cheek was paining you," said she, petulantly.

"My cheek?—what has that to do with it?"

"Everything, sir!"

"That," said Barnabas, "that I don't understand."

"Of course you don't!" she retorted.

"Hum!" said Barnabas.

"And now!" she demanded, "pray how did you know I was to be at

Oakshott's Barn to-night?"

"From my valet."

"Your valet?"

"Yes; though to be sure, he was a poacher, then."

"Sir, pray be serious!"

"I generally am."

"But why have a poacher for your valet?"

"That he might poach no more; and because I understand that he is the best valet in the world."

Here she glanced up at Barnabas and shook her head: "I fear I shall never understand you, Mr. Beverley."

"That time will show; and my name is Barnabas."

"But how did—this poacher—know?"

"He was the man who brought you the letter from Mr. Chichester."

"It was written by my—brother, sir."

"He was the man who gave you your brother's letter in Annersley Wood."

"Yes—I remember—in the wood."

"Where I found you lying quite unconscious."

"Where you found me—yes."

"Lying—quite unconscious!"

"Yes," she answered, beginning to hasten her steps again. "And where you left me without telling me your name—or—even asking mine."

"For which I blamed myself—afterwards," said Barnabas.

"Indeed, it was very remiss of you."

"Yes," sighed Barnabas, "I came back to try and find you."

"Really, sir?" said she, with black brows arched—"did you indeed, sir?"

"But I was too late, and I feared I had lost you—"

"Why, that reminds me, I lost my handkerchief."

"Oh!" said Barnabas, staring up at the moon.

"I think I must have dropped it—in the wood."

"Then, of course, it is gone—you may depend upon that," said

Barnabas, shaking his head at the moon.

"It had my monogram embroidered in one corner."

"Indeed!" said Barnabas.

"Yes; I was—hoping—that you had seen it, perhaps?"

"On a bramble-bush," said Barnabas, nodding at the moon.

"Then—you did find it, sir?"

"Yes; and I beg to remind you that my name—"

"Where is it?"