atching her as she went away. He
came up to her just as she was passing through the gate, and offered
her his right hand as he raised his hat with his left. It sometimes
happens to all of us in life that we become acquainted with persons
intimately,--that is, with an assumed intimacy,--whom in truth we
do not know at all. We meet such persons frequently, often eating
and drinking in their company, being familiar with their appearance,
and well-informed generally as to their concerns; but we never find
ourselves holding special conversations with them, or in any way
fitting the modes of our life to the modes of their life. Accident
has brought us together, and in one sense they are our friends. We
should probably do any little kindness for them, or expect the same
from them; but there is nothing in common between us, and there is
generally a mutual though unexpressed agreement that there shall
be nothing in common. Miss Amedroz was intimately acquainted with
Colonel Askerton after this fashion. She saw him very frequently, and
his name was often on her tongue; but she rarely, if ever, conversed
with him, and knew of his habits only from his wife's words
respecting them. When, therefore, he followed her through the garden
gate into the park, she was driven to suppose that he had something
special to say to her.

"I'm afraid you'll have a dark walk, Miss Amedroz," he said.

"It's only just across the park, and I know the way so well."

"Yes,--of course. I saw you coming out, and as I want to say a word
or two, I have ventured to follow you. When Mr. Belton was down here
I did not have the pleasure of meeting him."

"I remember that you missed each other."

"Yes, we did. I understand from my wife that he will be here again in
a day or two."

"He will be with us the day after to-morrow."

"I hope you will excuse my saying that it will be very desirable that
we should miss each other again." Clara felt that her face became
red with anger as she listened to Colonel Askerton's words. He spoke
slowly, as was his custom, and without any of that violence of
expression which his wife had used; but on that very account there
was more, if possible, of meaning in his words than in hers. William
Belton was her cousin, and such a speech as that which Colonel
Askerton had made, spoken with deliberation and unaccompanied by any
previous explanation, seemed to her almost to amount to insult. But
as she did not know how to answer h