Anna that English
people are very lazy, and lose some of the best part of each morning.

And then, as she stood out there in the sunshine, her mind reverted to
Major Guthrie and to his sudden disappearance. Rose liked Major Guthrie,
and she was sorry she had missed him yesterday morning, when out on her
fruitless quest for money.

Rose had been surprised at the way her mother had spoken of Major
Guthrie's departure. Mrs. Otway had declared the fact to be a secret--a
secret that must at all costs be kept. As a matter of fact the girl had
already heard the news from Anna, and she had observed, smiling, "But,
mother, you seem to have told Anna all about it?" And Mrs. Otway, her
gentle temper for once ruffled, had answered sharply, "I don't count
Anna! Major Guthrie particularly mentioned the Dean. He did not wish the
Dean to know. He said his going was to be kept secret. So I beg you,
Rose, to do as I ask."

Anna came out of the front door, and began polishing the brass knob.
"Ach!" she exclaimed. "Come in, child--do! You a chill will take. If it
is the postman you want, he gone by already has."

Rose smiled. Dear old Anna had never acquired the British love of fresh
air. "I'm waiting for the papers," she said. "I can't think why the man
doesn't begin with us, instead of going all round the other way first!
But I'm going to catch him this morning."

And Anna, grumbling, went back into the house again.

All at once Rose heard the sound of quick footsteps to her right, on the
path outside. She moved back into the paved court in front of the
Trellis House, and stood, a charming vision of youth and freshness, in
her pale mauve cotton frock, by a huge stone jar filled with pink
geraniums.

And then, a moment later, the tall figure of Jervis Blake suddenly swung
into view. He was very pale, and there was an eager, absorbed, strained
look on his face. In his hand was a white telegraph form.

Rose ran forward, and once more opened the gate. "Jervis!" she cried.
"What is it? What's the matter? Have you had bad news from home?"

He shook his head, and she saw that he was trying to smile. But there
was still that on his face which she had never seen before--a rapt,
transfigured look which made her feel--and she both disliked and
resented the feeling--as if he were, for the moment, remote from
herself. But he stayed his steps, and came through the gate.

For a moment he stood opposite to her without speaking. Then he took