The day was rather cold for the season, and Ethelberta sat by a fire; but the windows were open, and Picotee was amusing herself on the balcony outside.  The hour struck:  Ethelberta fancied she could hear the wheels of a carriage creeping up the steep ascent which led to the drive before the door.

‘Is it he?’ she said quickly.

‘No,’ said Picotee, whose indifference contrasted strangely with the restlessness of her who was usually the coolest.  ’It is a man shaking down apples in the garden over the wall.’

They lingered on till some three or four minutes had gone by.  ’Surely that’s a carriage?’ said Ethelberta, then.

‘I think it is,’ said Picotee outside, stretching her neck forward as far as she could.  ’No, it is the men on the beach dragging up their boats; they expect wind to-night.’

’How wearisome!  Picotee, you may as well come inside; if he means to call he will; but he ought to be here by this time.’

It was only once more, and that some time later that she again said ‘Listen!’

’That’s not the noise of a carriage; it is the fizz of a rocket.  The coastguardsmen are practising the life-apparatus to-day, to be ready for the autumn wrecks.’

‘Ah!’ said Ethelberta, her face clearing up.  Hers had not been a sweetheart’s impatience, but her mood had intensified during these minutes of suspense to a harassing mistrust of her man-compelling power, which was, if that were possible, more gloomy than disappointed love.  ’I know now where he is.  That operation with the cradle-apparatus is very interesting, and he is stopping to see it. . . .  But I shall not wait indoors much longer, whatever he may be stopping to see.  It is very unaccountable, and vexing, after moving into this new house too.  We were much more comfortable in the old one.  In keeping any previous appointment in which I have been concerned he has been ridiculously early.’

‘Shall I run round?’ said Picotee, ’and if he is not watching them we will go out.’

‘Very well,’ said her sister.

The time of Picotee’s absence seemed an age.  Ethelberta heard the roar of another rocket, and still Picotee did not return.  ’What can the girl be thinking of?’ she mused. . . .  ’What a half-and-half policy mine has been!  Thinking of marrying for position, and yet not making it my rigid plan to secure the man the first moment that he made his offer.  So I lose the comfort of having a soul above worldliness, and my compensation for not having it likewise!’ A minute or two more and in came Picotee.

‘What has kept you so long—­and how excited you look,’ said Ethelberta.

’I thought I would stay a little while, as I had never seen a rocket-apparatus,’ said Picotee, faintly and strangely.

‘But is he there?’ asked her sister impatiently.

‘Yes—­he was.  He’s gone now!’

‘Lord Mountclere?’