overgrown with roses. The
house lay back a little way from the green; and there was a tiny brook
running beside the holly hedge that bounded the garden, spanned by a
little rustic bridge before the gate.

Pausing just beside this bridge, Mr. Fenton heard the joyous barking of a
dog, and caught a brief glimpse of a light muslin dress flitting across
the little lawn at one side of the cottage While he was wondering about
the owner of this dress, the noisy dog came rushing towards the gate, and
in the next moment a girlish figure appeared in the winding path that
went in and out among the flower-beds.

Gilbert Fenton knew that tall slim figure very well. He had guessed
rightly, and this low white-walled cottage was really Captain
Sedgewick's. It seemed to him as if a kind of instinct brought him to
that precise spot.

Miss Nowell came to the gate, and stood there looking out, with a Skye
terrier in her arms. Gilbert drew back a little, and flung his cigar into
the brook. She had not seen him yet. Her looks were wandering far away
across the green, as if in search of some one.

Gilbert Fenton stood quite still watching her. She looked even prettier
without her bonnet than she had looked in the church, he thought: the
rich dark-brown hair gathered in a great knot at the back of the graceful
head; the perfect throat circled by a broad black ribbon, from which
there hung an old-fashioned gold cross; the youthful figure set-off by
the girlish muslin dress, so becoming in its utter simplicity.

He could not stand there for ever looking at her, pleasant as it might be
to him to contemplate the lovely face; so he made a little movement at
last, and came a few steps nearer to the gate.

"Good-evening once more, Miss Nowell," he said.

She looked up at him, surprised by his sudden appearance, but in no
manner embarrassed.

"Good-evening, Mr. Fenton. I did not see you till this moment. I was
looking for my uncle. He has gone out for a little stroll while he smokes
his cigar, and I expect him home every minute."

"I have been indulging in a solitary cigar myself," answered Gilbert.
"One is apt to be inspired with an antipathy to the house on this kind of
evening. I left the Listers yawning over their tea-cups, and came out for
a ramble. The aspect of the lane at which we parted company this evening
tempted me down this way. What a pretty house you have! Do you know I
guessed that it was yours before I saw you."

"Indeed! Y