Verily, Mrs. Fraudhurst had divined truly.  Love’s insidious poison had not yet developed itself in the bosom of either.  They returned to the drawing room, and, after singing together some of their favourite pieces, they retired for the night.

It was near morning before Carlton fell asleep; even then his brain continued to be disturbed by exciting dreams.  Now leading a charge of horses or storming some Indian fortress.  Finally he dreamed that he had rescued some Princess or Rajah’s daughter from becoming the prey of an enormous Bengal tiger, the head of which, strange to say, bore a striking resemblance to Mrs. Fraudhurst; that the Rajah, in return for his services, gave his daughter to him for a bride; that the marriage took place at the little church at Vellenaux.  He thought that as the bride approached the altar in gorgeous attire, and was about to place her hand within his, a seraph-like form glided between them and his hand was lovingly grasped by Edith Effingham, when all suddenly vanished in a thunder storm.  He awoke with a start and leaped from the bed, for there was a loud knocking at the door and the voice of the old Butler exclaiming, “Master Arthur, master Arthur, Miss Edith desires me to say that she is going to ride over to the Willows this bright morning and wishes to know if you would like to accompany her; she is now on the lawn.”

“Thank you, thank you, Reynolds.  My compliments to Miss Effingham, and say I shall be most happy to be her escort on the occasion,” and hurriedly dressing, was soon by her side, laughing and chatting merrily as they cantered over the green turf on their way to the Bartons.  Yet Arthur could not altogether dispel the feelings that arose within him, produced, doubtless, by the strange dreams that haunted his pillow during the night, or early that morning.

“Is not that Tom Barton?” said Edith, pointing to the figure of a man, dressed in sporting costume, seated on the step of a stile, engaged in lighting a small German pipe, his gun leaning against one of the uprights and some half dozen partridges lying on the grass at his feet.  As they rode up, Tom advanced to meet them, raised his hat politely to Edith, and shouted out, “Hallo Arthur, old fellow, how are you.  Glad to have you back amongst us; not much fun in tramping through the turnip fields alone, although the birds are by no means scarce this season.”

“Thank you, I intend to be amongst them, and together, I think we can do some execution.  How are the ladies at the Willows?  And is pretty little Cousin Kate as capricious as ever?” And here Carlton gave his friend a poke in the ribs with his riding whip.

Edith laughed heartily at the sallie; for his attachment to the lady in question was no secret to her.  Tom parried his friend’s enquiries as best as he could, and the trio proceeded at a walk in the best possible good humour.

On reaching the Willows they found Tom’s sisters and Kate Cotterell on the gallery.  Their approach had been observed by old Mrs. Barton, from the window of the breakfast room.  They were received with a shower of welcomes, for both Edith and Arthur were general favourites with all the neighbouring families, and especially so at the Bartons.