CHAPTER XV.
THE BRIGHTON RACES, AND WHAT HAPPENED THEREAT.
George Hawker just waited till he heard the retiring footsteps of the Major, and then, leaving the house, held his way rapidly towards Mary's lodgings, which were in Hampstead; but finding he would be too late to gain admittance, altered his course when he was close to the house, and went to his own house, which was not more than a few hundred yards distant.

In the morning he went to her, and she ran down the garden to meet him before the servant had time to open the door, looking so pretty and bright.

"Ah, George!" said she, "you never came last night, after all your promises.

I shall be glad when it's all over, George, and we are together for good." "It won't be long first, my dear," he answered; "we must manage to get through that time as well as we can, and then we'll begin to sound the old folks.

You see I am come to breakfast." "I expected you," she said; "come in and we will have such a pleasant chat, and after that you must take me down the town, George, and we will see the carriages." "Now, my love," said George; "I've got to tell you something that will vex you; but you must not be down-hearted about it, you know.