"I don't know, Mr. Robert, I'll go and inquire if you like."
"No, it doesn't matter. The Squire asked me to call and beg of your uncle to come to the Court to-morrow morning. Will you give him the message?"
"Yes, Mr. Robert."
There was a perceptible pause. Hetty looked down at the water. Awdrey looked at her.
"Good-evening," he said then.
"Good-evening, sir," she replied.
He turned and walked slowly up the narrow path which led toward the Court.
"His eyes told me to-night that he thought me pretty," muttered Hetty to herself, "why doesn't he say it with his lips? I—I wish I could make him. Oh, is that you, Mr. Frere?"
"Yes, Hetty. I promised to come, and I am here. The evening is a perfect one, let us follow the stream a little way."
Hetty was about to say "No," when suddenly lifting her eyes, she observed that the young Squire had paused under the shade of a great elm-tree a little further up the bank. A quick idea darted into her vain little soul. She would walk past the Squire without pretending to see him, in Frere's company. Frere should make love to her in the Squire's presence. She gave her lover a coy and affectionate glance.