You should love her?"—As You Like It.
Four weeks have flown by swiftly, with ungracious haste,—as do all our happiest moments,—leaving their mark behind them. In their train Taffy has passed away from Chetwoode, and all in the house have mourned his departure openly and sincerely. Miss Chesney for two whole days was inconsolable, and cried her pretty eyes very nearly out; after which she recovered, and allowed herself to find consolation in the thought that he has promised to return to them for a fortnight at Christmas-tide.
"Summer was dead, and Autumn was expiring,
And infant Winter laughed upon the land
All cloudlessly and cold."
The men spend half their days wondering if it will be a good hunting-season, the women are wrapt in delicious dreams of fur and velvet.
At The Cottage all the roses have fluttered into their graves, but in their place a sweet flower has bloomed. Cecilia's eyes have grown brighter, gladder, her step firmer, her cheek richer in the tint that rivals the peach. In her calm home she has but one thought, one hope, and that is Cyril. She has forbidden him to mention their engagement to Lady Chetwoode, so as yet the sweet secret is all their own.
Florence has gained a bona fide admirer, Mr. Boer—after much deliberation—having, for private reasons, decided in favor of Miss Beauchamp and her fifteen thousand pounds. But not for Mr. Boer, however well connected, or however fondly cherished by a rich and aged uncle, can Miss Beauchamp bring herself to resign all hope of Guy and Chetwoode.
At Steynemore, Mabel and her baby are laughing the happy hours away; though, to speak more accurately, it is at Chetwoode most of them are spent. At least every second week they drive over there, to find their rooms ready, and stay on well content to talk and crow at "auntie," until the handsome head of that dearest of old ladies is fairly turned.
Lilian has of course gone over heart and mind to Miss Steyne, who rewards her affection by practicing upon her the most ingenious tortures. With a craftiness terrible in one so young, she bides her opportunity and then pulls down all her friend's golden hair; at other times she makes frantic efforts at gouging out her eyes, tries to cut her eye-teeth upon her slender fingers, and otherwise does all in her power to tear her limb from limb. She also appears to find infinite amusement in scrambling up and down Miss Chesney's unhappy knees, to the detriment of that dainty lady's very dainty gowns, and shows symptoms of fight when she refuses to consume all such uninviting remnants of cake and bonbons as lie heavy on her hands.