hate and scorn. They were scattered hither and thither, and Anthony, troubled beyond measure at the whole dispute, stooped to gather up the precious fragments. In that interval Eleanor went down-stairs, and finding the carriage waiting, entered it, and gave the order "to Burley House."
At first his wife's escapade did not much trouble him. He sent an apology to Bashpoole, and sat down in his private parlor to calm and collect his thoughts. On the return of the coachman he was satisfied that she had gone to her father, and he believed Jonathan Burley would at once bring her back to her home and duty. When it got so late that he was forced to abandon this hope for the night, he still never thought of blaming Jonathan. He supposed that Eleanor had been either too sick or too angry to reason with, and that he had judged it better for all parties to "take counsel of their pillows."
All the next day he walked restlessly about, listening to every footstep, straining his eyes to catch the first sight of Jonathan's carriage coming through the park. When the night fell he could hardly believe in the disappointment of
