Beatrice's grey ones, and she knew that Beatrice liked her
no better than she did Beatrice. Those eyes were a trifle too honest,
and, like the deep clear water they resembled, apt to throw up shadows
of the passing thoughts above.

"False and cold and heartless," thought Beatrice. "I wonder how a man
like that could marry her; and how much he loves her."

Thus the two women took each other's measure at a glance, each finding
the other wanting by her standard. Nor did they ever change that hastily
formed judgment.

It was all done in a few seconds--in that hesitating moment before the
words we summon answer on our lips. The next, Lady Honoria was sweeping
towards her with outstretched hand, and her most gracious smile.

"Miss Granger," she said, "I owe you a debt I never can repay--my dear
husband's life. I have heard all about how you saved him; it is the most
wonderful thing--Grace Darling born again. I can't think how you could
do it. I wish I were half as brave and strong."

"Please don't, Lady Honoria," said Beatrice. "I am so tired of being
thanked for doing nothing, except what it was my duty to do. If I had
let Mr. Bingham go while I had the strength to hold on to him I should
have felt like a murderess to-day. I beg you to say no more about it."

"One does not often find such modesty united to so much courage, and,
if you will allow me to say it, so much beauty," answered Lady Honoria
graciously. "Well, I will do as you wish, but I warn you your fame will
find you out. I hear they have an account of the whole adventure in
to-day's papers, headed, 'A Welsh Heroine.'"

"How did you hear that, Honoria?" asked her husband.

"Oh, I had a telegram from Garsington, and he mentions it," she answered
carelessly.

"Telegram from Garsington! Hence these smiles," thought he. "I suppose
that she is going to-morrow."

"I have some other news for you, Miss Granger," went on Lady Honoria.
"Your canoe has been washed ashore, very little injured. The old
boatman--Edward, I think they call him--has found it; and your gun in
it too, Geoffrey. It had stuck under the seat or somewhere. But I fancy
that you must both have had enough canoeing for the present."

"I don't know, Lady Honoria," answered Beatrice. "One does not often get
such weather as last night's, and canoeing is very pleasant. Every sweet
has its salt, you know; or, in other words, one may always be upset."

At that moment, Betty, the awkward Welsh serving