You remember that hollow oak at the bottom of the dell, in which Guy St.John, the Cavalier, is said to have hid himself from Fairfax's soldiers?
Every Monday I will leave a letter in that hollow; every Tuesday you can search for it, and leave your own.

This is but once a week; there is no risk here." Mainwaring's conscience still smote him, but he had not the strength to resist the energy of Lucretia.

The force of her character seized upon the weak part of his own,--its gentleness, its fear of inflicting pain, its reluctance to say "No,"-- that simple cause of misery to the over-timid.

A few sentences more, full of courage, confidence, and passion, on the part of the woman, of constraint and yet of soothed and grateful affection on that of the man, and the affianced parted.
Mainwaring had already given orders to have his trunks sent to him at his father's; and, a hardy pedestrian by habit, he now struck across the park, passed the dell and the hollow tree, commonly called "Guy's Oak," and across woodland and fields golden with ripening corn, took his way to the town, in the centre of which, square, solid, and imposing, stood the respectable residence of his bustling, active, electioneering father.
Lucretia's eye followed a form as fair as ever captivated maiden's glance, till it was out of sight; and then, as she emerged from the shade of the cedars into the more open space of the garden, her usual thoughtful composure was restored to her steadfast countenance.

On the terrace, she caught sight of Vernon, who had just quitted his own room, where he always breakfasted alone, and who was now languidly stretched on a bench, and basking in the sun.