s conscious of a special attempt on Katrine's part
to be agreeable and sympathetic. The secret lying warm and fragrant at
her own heart made her especially tender over his loneliness, added to
which tenderness was a decided leaven of compunction. Theoretically,
she was ready to sacrifice all for Martin's sake; virtually, she had
stubbornly set herself to reject the one suggestion he had made for
months past. It had taken a whole week of valiant striving against self
to bring her to the point of giving in with a good grace. The prospect
of a visit from Grizel Dundas was distinctly unpleasant, despite the
fact that Grizel was a well-loved friend. Katrine searched her
conscience for a reason for this contradiction, at the same time
shutting a tight bolt over the one suggestion which endeavoured to make
itself heard. Jealous! Why should she be jealous? Even if Grizel were
a thousand times more attractive than herself, they moved in different
worlds, and owned entirely distinct circles of friends. Why, pray, need
she be jealous? The inner voice was sternly forbidden to mention
Martin's name in such a connection. Jealousy was out of the question
where Martin was concerned. His suggestion had been made out of
consideration for her own enjoyment; it lay on her conscience that she
had received the suggestion ungraciously. She swallowed the last doubt,
and said gravely:

"I've been thinking, Martin, that I _will_ ask Grizel for next month.
There's not much to do, but the garden is at its best, and she'll enjoy
that. I'll write to-night."

Martin crumbled his bread.

"Oh, well," he said slowly, "I wrote to her myself last night. I meant
to tell you. We have been growing rather dull, living so much alone.
It will do us good to have some fresh life."

CHAPTER FIVE.

The fly stopped at the gate, the flyman alighted, and prompted by a
sweet expectancy in Grizel's eye, rose to a height of gallantry hitherto
unknown, and offered his arm to assist her to alight. Grizel leaned
heavily upon it, and having languidly descended to the level of the
pavement, dropped her uplifted skirts and trailed slowly towards the
house. In contradiction to the fashion of the day the skirts were
trained both back and front, they floated round her in a soft billowy
cloud, trailing in their wake a little shower of pebbly stones. They
were most unfashionable skirts, for a railway journey they were
ridiculously inappropriate; they we