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inscrutable to-morrow.
     

CHAPTER VII.
     
     
    Come forward, some great marshal, and organize
    equality in society.
     
    The month of August came round, and Miss Allenville was to lay the foundation-stone of a tower or beacon which her father was about to erect on the highest hill of his estate, to the memory of his brother, the general. It was arranged that the school children should sing at the ceremony. Accordingly, at the hour fixed, Egbert was on the spot; a crowd of villagers had also arrived, and carriages were visible in the distance, wending their way towards the scene. When they had drawn up alongside and the visitors alighted, the master mason appeared nervous.
    “Mr. Mayne,” he said to Egbert, “you had better do what’s to be done for the lady. I shall speak too loud, or too soft, or handle things wrong. Do you attend upon her, and I’ll lower the stone.”
    Several ladies and gentlemen now gathered round, and presently Miss Allenville stood in position for her office, supported on one side by her father, a hard-featured man of five-and-forty, and some friends who were visiting at the house; and on the other by the school children, who began singing a song in keeping with the occasion. When this was done, Geraldine laid down the sealed bottle with its enclosed memorandum, which had been prepared for the purpose, and taking a trowel from her father’s hand, dabbled confusedly in the mortar, accidentally smearing it over the handle of the trowel.
    “Lower the stone,” said Egbert, who stood close by, to the mason at the winch; and the stone began to descend.
    The dainty-handed young woman was looking as if she would give anything to be relieved of the dirty trowel; but Egbert, the only one who observed this, was guiding the stone with both hands into its place, and could not receive the tool of her. Every moment increased her perplexity.
    “Take it, take it, will you?” she impatiently whispered to him, blushing with a consciousness that people began to perceive her awkward handling.
    “I must just finish this first,” he said.
    She was resigned in an instant. The stone settled down upon its base, when Egbert at once took the trowel, and her father came up and wiped her glove. Egbert then handed her the mallet.
    “What must I do with this thing?” she whispered entreatingly, holding the mallet as if it might bite her.
    “Tap with it, madam,” said he.
    She did as directed, and murmured the form of words which she had been told to repeat.
    “Thank you,” she said softly when all was done, restored to herself by the consciousness that she had performed the last part gracefully. Without lifting her eyes she added, “It was thoughtful of you to remember that I shouldn’t know, and to stand by to tell me.”
    Her friends now moved away, but before she had joined them Egbert said, chiefly for the pleasure of speaking to her: “The tower, when it is built, will be seen many miles off.”
    “Yes,” she replied in a discreet tone, for many eyes were upon her. “The view is very extensive.” She glanced round upon the whole landscape stretched out before her, in the extreme distance of which was visible the town of Westcombe.
    “How long does it take to go to Westcombe across this way?” she asked of him while they were bringing up the carriage.
    “About two hours,” he said.
    “Two hours — so long as that, does it? How far is it away?”
    “Eight miles.”
    “Two hours to drive eight miles — who ever heard of such a thing!”
    “I thought you meant walking”
    “Ah, yes; but one hardly means walking without expressly stating it.”
    “Well, it seems just the other way to me — that walking is meant unless you say driving.”
    That was the whole of their conversation. The remarks had been simple and trivial, but they brought a similar thought into the minds of both of them. On her part it spread a sudden gloom over her face, and it made him feel dead at heart. It was that horrid