246 ANGLING FOR BEATRICE. 



I was rewarded by the air of inveterate con- 

 tempt with which Kate listened to this elegant 

 badinage, but to me she scarce addressed a 

 word. Miss Hilthorpe having checkmated 

 her slow antagonist, went to the piano, and 

 filled the room with Offenbach, until the room 

 reeked with that stuff. The capering, jingling 

 tunes were thoroughly relished by the brilliant 

 Villiers, who was inspired by one of them, to 

 hum something about " piff-pafF-pufF," to which 

 Mr. Dalrymple nodded his bald head with an 

 air of gay fellow intelligence. 



I pleaded fatigue after my long walk, and 

 was about to steal off, when Kate, starting up, 

 intercepted me at the door. " You are not 

 angry with me ? " she whispered ; " you mustn't 

 be ; " and I was brute enough to turn away 

 without even glancing at her in reply. 



I made up my mind to return to town next 

 day, or at furthest the day after. 



I thought the night would never pass over. 

 At the earliest flush of dawn I was up, and 

 putting my rod together, went down, perhaps 

 for the last time, to the ' Wimple.' 



That June morning, how well I remember 



