her.

In this way, one morning of September, she went by early train as far
as Epsom, walked through the streets, and came into that high-banked
lane which leads up to the downs. Blackberries shone thick upon the
brambles, and above, even to the very tops of the hedge-row trees,
climbed the hoary clematis. Glad in this leafy solitude, Bertha rambled
slowly on. She made no unpleasing figure against the rural background,
for she was straight and slim, graceful in her movements, and had a
face from which no one would have turned indifferently, so bright was
it with youthful enjoyment and with older thought.

Whilst thus she lingered, a footstep approached, that of a man who was
walking in the same direction. When close to her, this pedestrian
stopped, and his voice startled Bertha with unexpected greeting. The
speaker was Norbert Franks.

"How glad I am to see you!" he exclaimed, in a tone and with a look
which vouched for his sincerity. "I ought to have been to Walham Green
long ago. Again and again I meant to come. But this is jolly; I like
chance meetings. Are you often down here in Surrey?"

With amusement Bertha remarked the evidence of prosperity in Franks'
dress and bearing; he had changed notably since the days when he used
to come to their little house to talk of Rosamund, and was glad of an
indifferent cup of tea. He seemed to be in very fair health, his
countenance giving no hint of sentimental sorrows.

Franks noticed a bunch of tinted leafage which she was carrying, and
spoke of its beauty.

"Going to make use of them, no doubt. What are you working at just now?"

Bertha told of her recent success with the illustrated story-book, and
Franks declared himself delighted. Clearly, he was in the mood to be
delighted with everything. Between his remarks, which were uttered in
the sprightliest tone, he hummed phrases of melody.

"Your Academy picture was a great success," said Bertha, discreetly
watching him as she spoke.

"Yes, I suppose it was," he answered, with a light-hearted laugh. "Did
you see it?--And what did you think of it?--No, seriously; I should
like your real opinion. I know you _have_ opinions."

"You meant it to be successful," was Bertha's reply.

"Well, yes, I did. At the same time I think some of the critics--the
high and mighty ones, you know--were altogether wrong about it.
Perhaps, on the whole, you take their view?"

"Oh no, I don't," answered his companion, cheerfully. "I thoug