On reaching the house, they were shewn through the hall into the saloon, whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. Its windows, opening to the ground, admitted a most refreshing view of the high woody hills behind the house, and of the beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts which were scattered over the intermediate lawn.

In the room they were received by Mr. Summers, who was sitting there with Mr. Wesley Lockley and Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg, and the lord with whom he lived in Los Angeles. Xander's reception of them was very civil; but attended with all that embarrassment which, though proceeding from shyness and the fear of doing wrong, would easily give to those who felt themselves inferior the belief of his being proud and reserved. Mr. Rupert Giles and his nephew, however, did his justice, and pitied him.

By Mr. Wesley Lockley and Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg, they were noticed only by a curtsey; and on their being seated, a pause, awkward as such pauses must always be, succeeded for a few moments. It was first broken by Mr. Ted, a genteel, agreeable looking man, whose endeavour to introduce some kind of discourse proved his to be more truly well bred than either of the others; and between him and Mr. Rupert Giles, with occasional help from Spike, the conversation was carried on. Mr. Summers looked as if he wished for courage enough to join in it; and sometimes did venture a short sentence, when there was least danger of its being heard.

Spike soon saw that he was himself closely watched by Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg, and that he could not speak a word, especially to Mr. Summers, without calling his attention. The observation would not have prevented him from trying to talk to the latter, had they not been seated at an inconvenient distance; but he was not sorry to be spared the necessity of saying much. His own thoughts were employing him. He expected every moment that some of the ladies would enter the room. He wished, he feared, that the mistress of the house might be amongst them; and whether he wished or feared it most, he could scarcely determine. After sitting in the manner a quarter of an hour without hearing Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg's voice, Spike was roused by receiving from him a cold enquiry after the health of his family. He answered with equal indifference and brevity, and the other said no more.

The next variation which their visit afforded was produced by the entrance of servants with cold meat, cake, and a variety of all the finest fruits in season; but the did not take place till after many a significant look and smile from Mr. Ted to Mr. Summers had been given, to remind his of his post. There was now employment for the whole party; for though they could not all talk, they could all eat; and the beautiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and peaches soon collected them round the table.

While thus engaged, Spike had a fair opportunity of deciding whether he most feared or wished for the appearance of Miss Buffy Summers, by the feelings which prevailed on her entering the room; and then, though but a moment before he had believed his wishes to predominate, he began to regret that she came.

She had been some time with Mrs. Jenny Giles, who, with two or three other ladies from the house, was engaged by the river, and had left her only on learning that the gentlemen of the family intended a visit to Xander that morning. No sooner did she appear, than Spike wisely resolved to be perfectly easy and unembarrassed; -- a resolution the more necessary to be made, but perhaps not the more easily kept, because he saw that the suspicions of the whole party were awakened against them, and that there was scarcely an eye which did not watch her behaviour when she first came into the room. In no countenance was attentive curiosity so strongly marked as in Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg's, in spite of the smiles which over spread his face whenever he spoke to one of its objects; for jealousy had not yet made his desperate, and his attentions to Miss Buffy Summers were by no means over. Mr. Summers, on his sister's entrance, exerted himself much more to talk; and Spike saw that she was anxious for her brother and himself to get acquainted, and forwarded, as much as possible, every attempt at conversation on either side. Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg saw all the likewise; and, in the imprudence of anger, took the first opportunity of saying, with sneering civility,

"Pray, Mr. Spike, are not the ----shire militia removed from Sunnydale? They must be a great loss to your family.''

In Summers' presence he dared not mention Faith's name; but Spike instantly comprehended that she was uppermost in his thoughts; and the various recollections connected with her gave his a moment's distress; but, exerting himself vigorously to repel the ill-natured attack, he presently answered the question in a tolerably disengaged tone. While he spoke, an involuntary glance shewed his Summers with an heightened complexion, earnestly looking at him, and her brother overcome with confusion and unable to lift up his eyes. 

Mr. Xander muttered, "It's funny how the earth never opens up and swallows you when you want it to."

Had Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg known what pain he was then giving his beloved friend, he undoubtedly would have refrained from the hint; but he had merely intended to discompose Spike, by bringing forward the idea of a woman to whom he believed him partial, to make his betray a sensibility which might injure him in Summers' opinion, and perhaps to remind the latter of all the follies and absurdities by which some part of his family were connected with that corps. Not a syllable had ever reached him of Mr. Summers' meditated elopement. To no creature had it been revealed, where secrecy was possible, except to Spike; and from all Rosenburg's connections his sister was particularly anxious to conceal it, from that very wish which Spike had long ago attributed to her, of their becoming hereafter his own. She had certainly formed such a plan, and without meaning that it should affect her endeavour to separate her from Mr. le Bloddy, it is probable that it might add something to her lively concern for the welfare of her friend.

Spike's collected behaviour, however, soon quieted her emotion; and as Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg, vexed and disappointed, dared not approach nearer to Faith, Xander also recovered in time, though not enough to be able to speak any more. His sister, whose eye he feared to meet, scarcely recollected his interest in the affair, and the very circumstance which had been designed to turn her thoughts from Spike, seemed to have fixed them on him more, and more cheerfully.

Their visit did not continue long after the question and answer above-mentioned; and while Miss Buffy Summers was attending them to their carriage, Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg was venting his feelings in criticisms on Spike's person, behaviour, and dress. But Xander would not join him. His sister's recommendation was enough to ensure his favour: her judgment could not err, and she had spoken in such terms of Spike as to leave Xander without the power of finding his otherwise than lovely and amiable. When Summers returned to the saloon, Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg could not help repeating to her some part of what he had been saying to her brother.

"How very ill Spike le Bloddy looks the morning, Miss Buffy Summers,'' he cried; "I never in my life saw any one so much altered as he is since the winter. He is grown so coarse! Wesley and I were agreeing that we should not have known his again.''

However little Miss Buffy Summers might have liked such an address, she contented herself with coolly replying that she perceived no other alteration than his being rather pale -- no miraculous consequence of travelling in the English summer.

"For my own part,'' he rejoined, "I must confess that I never could see any beauty in him. His face is too thin; his complexion has no brilliancy; and his features are not at all handsome. His nose wants character; there is nothing marked in its lines. His teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way; and as for his eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine, I never could perceive any thing extraordinary in them. They have a sharp, evil look, which I do not like at all; and in his air altogether, there is a self-sufficiency without fashion which is intolerable.''

Persuaded as Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg was that Summers admired Spike, the was not the best method of recommending herself; but angry people are not always wise; and in seeing her at last look somewhat nettled, he had all the success he expected. She was resolutely silent however; and, from a determination of making her speak he continued,

"I remember, when we first knew his in Southern California, how amazed we all were to find that he was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect your saying one night, after they had been dining at the burnt husk of Sunnydale High, " He a beauty! -- I should as soon call his father a wit." But afterwards he seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought his rather handsome at one time.''

"Yes,'' replied Summers, who could contain herself no longer, "but that was only when I first knew him, for it is many months since I have considered him as one of the handsomest men of my acquaintance.''

She then went away, and Mr. Riley Finn Rosenburg was left to all the satisfaction of having forced her to say what gave no one any pain but himself.

They had just been preparing to walk as the letters came in; and his aunt and uncle, leaving him to enjoy them in quiet, set off by themselves. The one missent must be first attended to; it had been written five days ago. The beginning contained an account of all their little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded; but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident agitation, gave more important intelligence. It was to the effect:

"Since writing the above, dearest Spikey, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you -- be assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Angelus. An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, from Colonel Cordelia, to inform us that he was gone off to Las Vegas with one of her officers; to own the truth, with Faith! -- Imagine our surprise. To Doyle, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! -- But I am willing to hope the best, and that her character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe her, but the step (and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing bad at heart. Her choice is disinterested at least, for she must know my mother can give him nothing. Our poor father is sadly grieved. My mother bears it better. How thankful am I, that we never let them know what has been said against her; we must forget it ourselves. They were off Saturday night about twelve, as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning at eight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Spikey, they must have passed within ten miles of us. Colonel Cordelia gives us reason to expect her here soon. Angelus left a few lines for her husband, informing his of their intention. I must conclude, for I cannot be long from my poor father. I am afraid you will not be able to make it out, but I hardly know what I have written.''

Without allowing himself time for consideration, and scarcely knowing what he felt, Spike, on finishing the letter, instantly seized the other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, read as follows -- it had been written a day later than the conclusion of the first:

"By the time, my dearest brother, you have received my hurried letter; I wish the may be more intelligible, but though not confined for time, my head is so bewildered that I cannot answer for being coherent. Dearest Spikey, I hardly know what I would write, but I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed. Imprudent as a marriage between Ms. Faith and our poor Angelus would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has taken place, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not gone to Las Vegas. 

Colonel Cordelia came yesterday, having left Palm Springs the day before, not many hours after the express. Though Angelus's short letter to Mr. Chase. gave them to understand that they were going to Elvis' Drive Through Marriage Chapel of Hunka Hunka Burning Love, something was dropped by Tara expressing her belief that Faith. never intended to go there, or to marry Angelus at all, which was repeated to Colonel Cordelia., who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from B. intending to trace their route. She did trace them easily to Clapham, but no farther; for on entering that place they removed into a hackney-coach and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsom. All that is known after that is that they were seen to continue the Los Angeles road. I know not what to think. After making every possible enquiry on that side Los Angeles, Colonel Cordelia. came on into Southern California, anxiously renewing them at all the turnpikes, and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but without any success; no such people had been seen to pass through. 

With the kindest concern she came on to The Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's, and broke her apprehensions to us in a manner most creditable to her heart. I am sincerely grieved for her and Mr. Chase., but no one can throw any blame on them. Our distress, my dear Spikey, is very great. My mother and father believe the worst, but I cannot think so ill of her. Many circumstances might make it more eligible for them to be married privately in town than to pursue their first plan; and even if She could form such a design against a young man of Angelus's connections, which is not likely, can I suppose his so lost to every thing? -- Impossible. I grieve to find, however, that Colonel Chase is not disposed to depend upon their marriage; she shook her head when I expressed my hopes, and said she feared Faith. was not a woman to be trusted. My poor father is really ill and keeps his room. Could he exert himself it would be better, but the is not to be expected; and as to my mother, I never in my life saw her so affected. 

Poor Doyle has anger for having concealed their attachment; but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Spikey, that you have been spared something of these distressing scenes; but now, as the first shock is over, shall I own that I long for your return? I am not so selfish, however, as to press for it, if inconvenient. Adieu. I take up my pen again to do what I have just told you I would not, but circumstances are such, that I cannot help earnestly begging you all to come here as soon as possible. I know my dear aunt and uncle so well that I am not afraid of requesting it, though I have still something more to ask of the former. My mother is going to Los Angeles with Colonel Cordelia instantly, to try to discover him. What she means to do, I am sure I know not; but her excessive distress will not allow her to pursue any measure in the best and safest way, and Colonel Cordelia is obliged to be at Palm Springs again to-morrow evening. In such an exigence my uncle's advice and assistance would be every thing in the world; she will immediately comprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon her goodness.''

"Oh! where, where is my uncle?'' cried Spike, darting from his seat as he finished the letter, in eagerness to follow her without losing a moment of the time so precious; but as he reached the door, it was opened by a servant, and Miss Buffy Summers appeared. His pale face and impetuous manner made her start, and before she could recover herself enough to speak, he, in whose mind every idea was superseded by Angelus's situation, hastily exclaimed, "I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find Mrs. Jenny Giles the moment, on business that cannot be delayed; I have not a moment to lose.''

"Good God! what is the matter?'' cried she, with more feeling than politeness; then recollecting herself, "I will not detain you a minute, but let me, or let the servant, go after Mrs. and Mr. Rupert Giles. You are not well enough; -- you cannot go yourself.''

Spike hesitated, but his knees trembled under him, and he felt how little would be gained by his attempting to pursue them. Calling back the servant, therefore, he commissioned her, though in so breathless an accent as made his almost unintelligible, to fetch her mistress and mistress home instantly.

On her quitting the room, he sat down, unable to support himself, and looking so miserably ill that it was impossible for Summers to leave him, or to refrain from saying, in a tone of gentleness and commiseration, "Let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take, to give you present relief? -- A shot of whiskey; -- shall I get you one? -- You are very ill.''

"No, I thank you;'' he replied, endeavouring to recover himself. "There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well. I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from The Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's.''

He burst into tears as he alluded to it, and for a few minutes could not speak another word. Summers, in wretched suspense, could only say something indistinctly of her concern, and observe him in compassionate silence. At length, he spoke again. "I have just had a letter from Oz, with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from any one. My youngest brother has left all his friends -- has eloped; -- has thrown himself into the power of -- of Ms. Faith. They are gone off together from Palm Springs.  You know her too well to doubt the rest. He has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt her to -- he is lost for ever.''

Summers was fixed in astonishment. "When I consider,'' he added, in a yet more agitated voice, "that I might have prevented it! -- I who knew what she was. Had I but explained some part of it only -- some part of what I learnt -- to my own family! Had her character been known, this could not have happened. But it is all, all too late now.''

"I am grieved, indeed,'' cried Summers; "grieved -- shocked. But is it certain, absolutely certain?''

"Oh yes! -- They left Palm Springs together on Sunday night, and were traced almost to Los Angeles, but not beyond; they are certainly not gone to Las Vegas.''

"And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recover her?''

"My mother is gone to Los Angeles, and Oz has written to beg my uncle's immediate assistance, and we shall be off, I hope, in half an hour. But nothing can be done; I know very well that nothing can be done. How is such a woman to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!''

Summers shook her head in silent acquiescence.

"When my eyes were opened to her real character. -- Oh! had I known what I ought, what I dared, to do! But I knew not -- I was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched, mistake!''

Summers made no answer. She seemed scarcely to hear him, and was walking up and down the room in earnest meditation; her brow contracted, her air gloomy. Spike soon observed and instantly understood it. His power was sinking; every thing must sink under such a proof of family weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. He should neither wonder nor condemn, but the belief of her self-conquest brought nothing consolatory to his bosom, afforded no palliation of his distress. It was, on the contrary, exactly calculated to make his understand his own wishes; and never had he so honestly felt that he could have loved her, as now, when all love must be vain.

But self, though it would intrude, could not engross him. Angelus -- the humiliation, the misery, he was bringing on them all -- soon swallowed up every private care; and covering his face with his handkerchief, Spike was soon lost to every thing else; and, after a pause of several minutes, was only recalled to a sense of his situation by the voice of his companion, who, in a manner, which though it spoke compassion, spoke likewise restraint, said, "I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, nor have I any thing to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though unavailing, concern. Would to heaven that any thing could be either said or done on my part, that might offer consolation to such distress! -- But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks. The unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my brother's having the pleasure of seeing you at The Bronze to-day.''

"Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologize for us to Mr. Summers. Say that urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as it is possible. -- I know it cannot be long.''

She readily assured his of her secrecy -- again expressed her sorrow for his distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present reason to hope, and, leaving her compliments for his relations, with only one serious, parting, look, went away.

As she quitted the room, Spike felt how improbable it was that they should ever see each other again on such terms of cordiality as had marked their several meetings in The San Francisco Bay Area; and as he threw a retrospective glance over the whole of their acquaintance, so full of contradictions and varieties, sighed at the perverseness of those feelings which would now have promoted its continuance, and would formerly have rejoiced in its termination.

If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Spike's change of sentiment will be neither improbable nor faulty. But if otherwise, if the regard springing from such sources is unreasonable or unnatural, in comparison of what is so often described as arising on a first interview with its object, and even before two words have been exchanged, nothing can be said in his defence, except that he had given somewhat of a trial to the latter method in his partiality for Faith, and that its ill-success might perhaps authorise him to seek the other less interesting mode of attachment. Be that as it may, he saw her go with regret; and in the early example of what Angelus's infamy must produce, found additional anguish as he reflected on that wretched business. Never, since reading Oz's second letter, had he entertained a hope of Faith's meaning to marry him. No one but Oz, he thought, could flatter himself with such an expectation. Surprise was the least of his feelings on the developement. While the contents of the first letter remained on his mind, he was all surprise -- all astonishment that Faith should marry a boy whom it was impossible she could marry for money; and how Angelus could ever have attached her had appeared incomprehensible. But now it was all too natural. For such an attachment as this, he might have sufficient charms; and though he did not suppose Angelus to be deliberately engaging in an elopement, without the intention of marriage, he had no difficulty in believing that neither his virtue nor his understanding would preserve his from falling an easy prey.

He had never perceived, while the regiment was in Southern California, that Angelus had any partiality for her, but he was convinced that Angelus had wanted only encouragement to attach himself to any body. Sometimes one officer, sometimes another had been his favourite, as their attentions raised them in his opinion. His affections had been continually fluctuating, but never without an object. The mischief of neglect and mistaken indulgence towards such a girl. -- Oh! how acutely did he now feel it.

He was wild to be at home -- to hear, to see, to be upon the spot, to share with Oz in the cares that must now fall wholly upon him, in a family so deranged; a mother absent, a father incapable of exertion and requiring constant attendance; and though almost persuaded that nothing could be done for Angelus, his uncle's interference seemed of the utmost importance, and till she entered the room, the misery of his impatience was severe. Mrs. and Mr. Rupert Giles had hurried back in alarm, supposing, by the servant's account, that their nephew was taken suddenly ill; -- but satisfying them instantly on that head, he eagerly communicated the cause of their summons, reading the two letters aloud, and dwelling on the postscript of the last with trembling energy. -- Though Angelus had never been a favourite with them, Mrs. and Mr. Rupert Giles could not but be deeply affected. Not Angelus only, but all were concerned in it; and after the first exclamations of surprise and horror, Mrs. Jenny Giles readily promised every assistance in her power. -- Spike, though expecting no less, thanked her with tears of gratitude; and all three being actuated by one spirit, every thing relating to their journey was speedily settled. They were to be off as soon as possible. "But what is to be done about The Bronze?'' cried Mr. Rupert Giles. "John told us Miss Buffy Summers was here when you sent for us; -- was it so?''

"Yes; and I told her we should not be able to keep our engagement.  That is all settled.''

"That is all settled!'' repeated the other, as he ran into his room to prepare. "And are they upon such terms as for him to disclose the real truth! Oh, that I knew how it was!''

"Do you really think so?'' cried Spike, brightening up for a moment.

"Upon my word,'' said Mr. Rupert Giles, "I begin to be of your uncle's opinion. It is really too great a violation of decency, honour, and interest, for her to be guilty of it. I cannot think so very ill of Faith. Can you, yourself, Spikey, so wholly give her up as to believe her capable of it?''

"Not perhaps of neglecting her own interest. But of every other neglect I can believe her capable. If, indeed, it should be so! But I dare not hope it. Why should they not go on to Las Vegas, if that had been the case?''

"In the first place,'' replied Mrs. Jenny Giles, "there is no absolute proof that they are not gone to Las Vegas.''

"Oh! but their removing from the chaise into an hackney coach is such a presumption! And, besides, no traces of them were to be found on the Barnet road.''

"Well, then -- supposing them to be in Los Angeles. They may be there, though, for the purpose of concealment, for no more exceptionable purpose. It is not likely that money should be very abundant on either side; and it might strike them that they could be more economically, though less expeditiously, married in Los Angeles, than in Las Vegas.''

"But why all the secrecy? Why any fear of detection? Why must their marriage be private? Oh! no, no, the is not likely. Faith's most particular friend, you see by Oz's account, was persuaded of her never intending to marry him. Faith will never marry a man without some money. She cannot afford it. And what claims has Angelus, what attractions has he beyond youth, health, and good humour, that could make her, for his sake, forgo every chance of benefiting herself by marrying well? As to what restraint the apprehension of disgrace in the corps might throw on a dishonourable elopement with him, I am not able to judge; for I know nothing of the effects that such a step might produce. But as to your other objection, I am afraid it will hardly hold good. Angelus has no brothers to step forward; and she might imagine, from my mother's behaviour, from her indolence and the little attention she has ever seemed to give to what was going forward in her family, that She would do as little, and think as little about it, as any mother could do in such a matter.''

"But can you think that Angelus is so lost to every thing but love of her, as to consent to live with her on any other terms than marriage?''

"It does seem, and it is most shocking indeed,'' replied Spike, with tears in his eyes, "that a brother's sense of decency and virtue in such a point should admit of doubt. But, really, I know not what to say. Perhaps I am not doing his justice. But he is very young; he has never been taught to think on serious subjects; and for the last half year, nay, for a twelvemonth, he has been given up to nothing but amusement and vanity. He has been allowed to dispose of his time in the most idle and frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinions that came in his way. Since the ----shire were first quartered in Sunnydale, nothing but love, flirtation, and officers have been in his head. He has been doing every thing in his power, by thinking and talking on the subject, to give greater -- what shall I call it? -- susceptibility to his feelings, which are naturally lively enough. And we all know that Faith has every charm of person and address that can captivate a man.''

"But you see that Oz,'' said his uncle, "does not think so ill of Faith as to believe her capable of the attempt.''

"Of whom does Oz ever think ill? And who is there, whatever might be their former conduct, that he would believe capable of such an attempt, till it were proved against them? But Oz knows, as well as I do, what Faith really is. We both know that she has been profligate in every sense of the word. That she has neither integrity nor honour. That she is as false and deceitful, as she is insinuating.''

"And do you really know all this?'' cried Mr. Rupert Giles, whose curiosity as to the mode of his intelligence was all alive.

"I do, indeed,'' replied Spike, colouring. "I told you the other day, of her infamous behaviour to Miss Buffy Summers; and you, yourself, when last at The Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's, heard in what manner she spoke of the woman who had behaved with such forbearance and liberality towards her. And there are other circumstances which I am not at liberty -- which it is not worth while to relate; but her lies about the whole The Bronze family are endless. From what she said of Mr. Summers, I was thoroughly prepared to see a proud, reserved, disagreeable boy. Yet she knew to the contrary herself. She must know that he was amiable and unpretending as we have found him.''

"But does Angelus know nothing of This? Can he be ignorant of what you and Oz seem so well to understand?''

"Oh, yes! -- that, that is the worst of all. Till I was in Sacramento, and saw so much both of Miss Buffy Summers and her relation, Col Amy the rat, I was ignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home, the ----shire was to leave Sunnydale in a week or fortnight's time. As that was the case, neither Oz, to whom I related the whole, nor I, thought it necessary to make our knowledge public; for of what use could it apparently be to any one that the good opinion which all the neighbourhood had of her should then be overthrown? And even when it was settled that Angelus should go with Mr. Chase, the necessity of opening his eyes to her character never occurred to me. That He could be in any danger from the deception never entered my head. That such a consequence as the should ensue, you may easily believe was far enough from my thoughts.''

"When they all removed to Palm Springs, therefore, you had no reason, I suppose, to believe them fond of each other.''

"Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection on either side; and had any thing of the kind been perceptible, you must be aware that ours is not a family on which it could be thrown away. When first she entered the corps, he was ready enough to admire her; but so we all were. Every boy in or near Sunnydale was out of his senses about her for the first two months; but she never distinguished him by any particular attention, and consequently, after a moderate period of extravagant and wild admiration, his fancy for her gave way, and others of the regiment who treated him with more distinction again became his favourites.'' 

It may be easily believed that, however little of novelty could be added to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on the interesting subject by its repeated discussion, no other could detain them from it long, during the whole of the journey. From Spike's thoughts it was never absent. Fixed there by the keenest of all anguish, self-reproach, he could find no interval of ease or forgetfulness.

They travelled as expeditiously as possible; and, sleeping one night on the road, reached The Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's by dinner-time the next day. It was a comfort to Spike to consider that Oz could not have been wearied by long expectations.

The little Giles', attracted by the sight of a chaise, were standing on the steps of the house as they entered the paddock; and when the carriage drove up to the door, the joyful surprise that lighted up their faces, and displayed itself over their whole bodies in a variety of capers and frisks, was the first pleasing earnest of their welcome.

Spike jumped out; and, after giving each of them an hasty kiss, hurried into the vestibule, where Oz, who came running down stairs from his father's apartment, immediately met him.

Spike, as he affectionately embraced him, whilst tears filled the eyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether any thing had been heard of the fugitives.

"Not yet,'' replied Oz. "But now that my dear aunt is come, I hope every thing will be well.''

"Is my mother in town?''

"Yes, she went on Tuesday, as I wrote you word.''

"And have you heard from her often?''

"We have heard only once. She wrote me a few lines on Wednesday, to say that she had arrived in safety, and to give me her directions, which I particularly begged her to do. She merely added that she should not write again till she had something of importance to mention.''

"And my father -- How is she? How are you all?''

"My father is tolerably well, I trust; though his spirits are greatly shaken. He is up stairs, and will have great satisfaction in seeing you all. He does not yet leave his dressing-room. Anointed One and Doyle, thank Heaven! are quite well.''

"But you -- How are you?'' cried Spike. "You look pale. How much you must have gone through!''

His brother, however, assured his of his being perfectly well; and their conversation, which had been passing while Mrs. and Mr. Rupert Giles were engaged with their children, was now put an end to by the approach of the whole party. Oz ran to his aunt and uncle, and welcomed and thanked them both, with alternate smiles and tears.

When they were all in the drawing room, the questions which Spike had already asked were of course repeated by the others, and they soon found that Oz had no intelligence to give. The sanguine hope of good, however, which the benevolence of his heart suggested, had not yet deserted her; he still expected that it would all end well, and that every morning would bring some letter, either from Angelus or his mother, to explain their proceedings, and perhaps announce the marriage.

Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected; with tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous conduct of Faith, and complaints of his own sufferings and ill usage; blaming every body but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the errors of his son must be principally owing.

"If I had been able,'' said he, "to carry my point of going to Palm Springs, with all my family, this would not have happened; but poor dear Angelus had nobody to take care of him. Why did the Chases ever let him go out of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on their side, for he is not the kind of boy to do such a thing, if he had been well looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to have the charge of her; but I was over-ruled, as I always am. Poor dear child! And now here's Mrs. Joyce le Bloddy gone away, and I know she will fight Faith wherever she meets her, and then she will be killed, and what is to become of us all? The Anya Nkaes will turn us out, before she is cold in her grave; and if you are not kind to us, sister, I do not know what we shall do.''

They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mrs. Jenny Giles, after general assurances of her affection for his and all his family, told his that she meant to be in Los Angeles the very next day, and would assist Mrs. Joyce le Bloddy in every endeavour for recovering Angelus.

"Do not give way to useless alarm,'' added he; "though it is right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain. It is not quite a week since they left Palm Springs. In a few days more, we may gain some news of them, and till we know that they are not married, and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as lost. As soon as I get to town, I shall go to my sister and make her come home with me to Riverside Street, and then we may consult together as to what is to be done.''

"Oh! my dear sister,'' replied Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy, "that is exactly what I could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out, wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, make them marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but tell Angelus he shall have as much money as he chuses to buy them, after they are married. And, above all things, keep Mrs. Joyce le Bloddy from fighting. Tell her what a dreadful state I am in, -- that I am frightened out of my wits; and have such tremblings, such flutterings all over me such spasms in my side, and pains in my head, and such beatings at heart, that I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear Angelus, not to give any directions about his clothes till he has seen me, for he does not know which are the best warehouses. Oh, sister, how kind you are! I know you will contrive it all.''

But Mrs. Jenny Giles, though she assured him again of her earnest endeavours in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to him, as well in his hopes as his fears; and, after talking with him in the manner till dinner was on table, they left him to vent all his feelings on the housekeeper, who attended in the absence of his sons.

Though his sister and brother were persuaded that there was no real occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt to oppose it, for they knew that he had not prudence enough to hold his tongue before the servants while they waited at table, and judged it better that one only of the household, and the one whom they could most trust, should comprehend all his fears and solicitude on the subject.

In the dining-room they were soon joined by Anointed One and Doyle, who had been too busily engaged in their separate apartments, to make their appearance before. One came from his books, and the other from his toilette. The faces of both, however, were tolerably calm; and no change was visible in either, except that the loss of his favourite brother, or the anger which he had himself incurred in the business, had given something more of fretfulness than usual to the accents of Doyle. As for Anointed One, he was master enough of himself to whisper to Spike, with a countenance of grave reflection, soon after they were seated at table,

"This is a most unfortunate affair; and will probably be much talked of. But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of each other the balm of brotherly consolation.''

Then, perceiving in Spike no inclination of replying, he added, "Unhappy as the event must be for Angelus, we may draw from it the useful lesson: that loss of virtue in a male is irretrievable -- that one false step involves him in endless ruin -- that his reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful, -- and that he cannot be too much guarded in his behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex.''

Spike lifted up his eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed to make any reply. Anointed One, however, continued to console himself with such kind of moral extractions from the evil before them.

In the afternoon, the two elder Mr. le Bloddys were able to be for half an hour by themselves; and Spike instantly availed himself of the opportunity of making many enquiries, which Oz was equally eager to satisfy. After joining in general lamentations over the dreadful sequel of the event, which Spike considered as all but certain, and Mr. le Bloddy could not assert to be wholly impossible, the former continued the subject by saying, "But tell me all and every thing about it which I have not already heard. Give me farther particulars. What did Colonel Cordelia say? Had they no apprehension of any thing before the elopement took place? They must have seen them together for ever.''

"Colonel Cordelia did own that she had often suspected some partiality, especially on Angelus's side, but nothing to give her any alarm. I am so grieved for her. Her behaviour was attentive and kind to the utmost. She was coming to us, in order to assure us of her concern, before she had any idea of their not being gone to Las Vegas; when that apprehension first got abroad, it hastened her journey.''

"And was Tara convinced that Faith would not marry? Did she know of their intending to go off? Had Colonel Cordelia seen Tara herself?''

"Yes; but when questioned by him, Tara denied knowing any thing of their plan, and would not give her real opinion about it. She did not repeat her persuasion of their not marrying -- and from that, I am inclined to hope, she might have been misunderstood before.''

"And till Colonel Cordelia came herself, not one of you entertained a doubt, I suppose, of their being really married?''

"How was it possible that such an idea should enter our brains! I felt a little uneasy -- a little fearful of my brother's happiness with her in marriage, because I knew that her conduct had not been always quite right. My mother and father knew nothing of that, they only felt how imprudent a match it must be. Doyle then owned, with a very natural triumph on knowing more than the rest of us, that in Angelus's last letter he had prepared him for such a step. He had known, it seems, of their being in love with each other many weeks.''

"But not before they went to Palm Springs?''

"No, I believe not.''

"And did Colonel Cordelia appear to think ill of Faith herself? Does she know her real character?''

"I must confess that she did not speak so well of Faith as she formerly did. She believed her to be imprudent and extravagant. And since the sad affair has taken place, it is said that she left Sunnydale greatly in debt; but I hope the may be false.''

"Oh, Oz, had we been less secret, had we told what we knew of her, this could not have happened!''

"Perhaps it would have been better,'' replied his brother. "But to expose the former faults of any person, without knowing what their present feelings were, seemed unjustifiable. We acted with the best intentions.''

"Could Colonel Cordelia repeat the particulars of Angelus's note to her wife?''

"She brought it with her for us to see.''

Oz then took it from his pocket-book, and gave it to Spike. These were the contents:

"MY DEAR,

You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as I am missed. I am going to Elvis' Drive Through Marriage Chapel of Hunka Hunka Burning Love, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one woman in the world I love, and she is an angel. I should never be happy without her, so think it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at The Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's of my going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater when I write to them and sign my name Angelus Faith. What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to Pratt, for not keeping my engagement and sparring with her to night. Tell her I hope she will excuse me when she knows all, and tell her I will fight with her at the next sparring match we meet, with great pleasure. I shall send for my clothes when I get to The Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's; but I wish you would tell Sally to mend a great slit in my worked leather gown before they are packed up. Good bye. Give my love to Colonel Cordelia. I hope you will drink to our good journey.

Your affectionate friend,

Angelus Le Bloddy.''

"Oh! thoughtless, thoughtless Angelus!'' cried Spike when he had finished it. "What a letter is This, to be written at such a moment. But at least it shews that He was serious in the object of his journey. Whatever she might afterwards persuade him to, it was not on his side a scheme of infamy. My poor mother! how she must have felt it!''

"I never saw any one so shocked. She could not speak a word for full ten minutes. My father was taken ill immediately, and the whole house in such confusion!''

"Oh! Oz!'' cried Spike, "was there a servant belonging to it, who did not know the whole story before the end of the day?''

"I do not know. -- I hope there was. -- But to be guarded at such a time, is very difficult. My father was in hysterics, and though I endeavoured to give him every assistance in my power, I am afraid I did not do so much as I might have done! But the horror of what might possibly happen, almost took from me my faculties.''

"Your attendance upon him has been too much for you. You do not look well. Oh! that I had been with you, you have had every care and anxiety upon yourself alone.''

"Anointed One and Doyle have been very kind, and would have shared in every fatigue, I am sure, but I did not think it right for either of them. Doyle is slight and delicate, and Anointed One studies so much, that his hours of repose should not be broken in on. My aunt Olivia came to The Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's on Tuesday, after my mother went away; and was so good as to stay till Thursday with me. He was of great use and comfort to us all, and Dr. Angleman Walsh has been very kind; he walked here on Wednesday morning to condole with us, and offered his services, or any of his sons, if they could be of use to us.''

"He had better have stayed at home,'' cried Spike; "perhaps he meant well, but under such a misfortune as This, one cannot see too little of one's neighbours. Assistance is impossible; condolence, insufferable. Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied.''

He then proceeded to enquire into the measures which his mother had intended to pursue, while in town, for the recovery of her son.

"She meant, I believe,'' replied Oz, "to go to Epsom, the place where they last changed horses, see the postilions, and try if any thing could be made out from them. Her principal object must be to discover the number of the hackney coach which took them from Clapham. It had come with a fare from Los Angeles; and as she thought the circumstance of a lady and gentleman's removing from one carriage into another might be remarked, she meant to make enquiries at Clapham. If she could any how discover at what house the coachman had before set down her fare, she determined to make enquiries there, and hoped it might not be impossible to find out the stand and number of the coach. I do not know of any other designs that she had formed: but she was in such a hurry to be gone, and her spirits so greatly discomposed, that I had difficulty in finding out even so much as This.''
 

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