I am always in communication with Lady Dunstane.' She coloured deeply.

The recollection of the change of her feeling for Copsley suffused her maiden mind.
The strange blush prompted an impulse in Redworth to speak to her at once of his venture in railways.

But what would she understand of them, as connected with the mighty stake he was playing for?
He delayed.
The coach came at a trot of the horses, admired by Sir Lukin, round a corner.

She entered it, her maid followed, the door banged, the horses trotted.

She was off.
Her destiny of the Crossways tied a knot, barred a gate, and pointed to a new direction of the road on that fine spring morning, when beech-buds were near the burst, cowslips yellowed the meadow-flats, and skylarks quivered upward.
For many long years Redworth had in his memory, for a comment on procrastination and excessive scrupulousness in his calculating faculty, the blue back of a coach.
He declined the vacated place beside Sir Lukin, promising to come and spend a couple of days at Copsley in a fortnight--Saturday week.