Mr.  Hayward  turned  to  the  window  involuntarily,  to  watch
them  as  they  descended  the  gentle  slope  of  the  lawn.  There
was  a  vague  thought  in  his  mind  that  they  had  better  not  have
gone ;  but  as  he  could  find  no  reason  for  the  idea,  he  dismissed
it.  He  was  a  benevolent,  simple-hearted  man;  he  had  had
neither  the  necessity  nor  the  inclination  to  study  character,  ahc^
could  not  at  once  estimate  the  effect  such  a  communication  as  hrs
daughter  was  about  to  receive  would  have  upon  her ;  nor  did  it
at  once  strike  him  that  the  long  and  intimate  association  she  had
held  with  Herbert  could  have  produced  any  tenderer  feeling  than
she  had  ever  expressed  or  appeared  to  entertain.  Her  mother,
had  she  been  there,  might  have  judged  differently ;  but,  as  Mr.
Hayward  soliloquised,  as  their  retreating  figures  were  lost  to  his


TIPPOO  SULTAUN.  69

view  behind  a  low  shrubbery,  ^  Matters  must  take  their  own  course
now ;  it  is  too  late  to  recall  them.'

Onwards  they  went ;  leaviiig  the  broad  walk  which  led  by  the
side  of  the  lawn  and  shrubberies,  they  at  once  struck  across  the
park,  down  one  of  the  noble  glades  of  beech-trees  from  whence
the  place  took  its  name.  The  day  was  bright  and  warm — one  of
those  blessed  days  of  June,  when  all  nature  seems  to  put  forward
her  choicest  productions  for  the  gratification  and  admiration  of
man-^when  cowslip  and  daisy,  buttercup  and  wild  anemone,  with
a  thousand  other  flowers  of  lowly  pretensions  yet  of  exquisite
beauty,  have  opened  their  bright  blossoms  to  the  sunlight,  and
are  wooing  it  in  silent  thankfulness.
