t her family affairs, and that he would only stay three minutes.
At four o'clock he knocked at the door of Mr. Brooke's chocolate-brown
house, and inquired solemnly for Miss Brooke.

Miss Brooke was not at home.

"Miss Lesley Brooke then?"

Miss Lesley Brooke was in the drawing-room. Maurice went upstairs.

CHAPTER XI.

BROOKE'S DISCIPLE.

Lesley was sitting in a low chair near a small wood fire, which the
chillness of the October day made fully acceptable. She had a book on
her lap, but she did not look as if she were reading: her chin was
supported by her hand, and her brown eyes were gazing out of the window,
with, as Maurice Kenyon could not fail to see, a slightly blank and
saddened look. The girl had been now a fortnight in London, and her face
had paled and thinned since her arrival; there was an anxious fold
between her brows, and her mouth drooped at the corners. If her old
friends--Sister Rose of the convent, for instance--had seen her, they
could hardly have recognized this spiritless, brooding maiden for the
joyous "Lisa" of their thoughts.

Mr. Kenyon had only one moment in which to note the significance of her
attitude, for Lesley changed it as soon as she heard his name. He gave
her Ethel's message at once and Ethel's parcel, and then stood, a little
confused and unready for she had risen and was looking as if, when his
errand was accomplished, he ought to go. Fortunately, Doctor Sophy came
in and invited him cordially to sit down; rang for tea and scolded him
roundly for not coming oftener; then suddenly remembered that one of her
everlasting committees was at that moment sitting in a neighboring
house, and started off at once to join her fellows, calling out to
Lesley as she went to give Mr. Kenyon some tea, and tell her father, who
was in the library.

"My father is out: Aunt Sophy does not know that," said Lesley to her
visitor.

"Then I ought to go?" said Maurice, smiling.

"Oh, no!"--Lesley looked disturbed. "I did not mean to be so
inhospitable. The tea is just coming up."

"Thank you," said Maurice, accepting the unspoken invitation and seating
himself. "I shall be very glad of a cup."

She sat down too, veiling the real embarrassment of a school-girl by an
assumption of great dignity. Maurice looked at her and felt perplexed.
Somehow he could not believe that Brooke's daughter was such a very
frivolous girl when he came to look at her. She had a fine brow,
expressive eyes,