startled the others, so
strong was the contrast between her present effective garments and the
black raiment she had affected constantly since her return to Beechcroft
after her marriage.

"The reform has commenced," she cried gaily, seeing how they looked at
her. "My maid is in ecstasies about the proposed visit to my dressmaker's.
She insisted on showing me a study for an Ascot frock in the _Queen_."

"Ah, she is a Frenchwoman?" said Brett.

"Yes; and pray what mystery have you elucidated now?"

"Not a mystery, but a sober fact. A Frenchwoman must be in the mode.
Anybody else would have told you to copy yourself. Fashions are a sealed
book to me, but I do claim a certain taste in colour effect, and you have
gratified it."

"And have you nothing nice to say to me, Mr. Brett?" pouted Helen.

"So much that I must remain dumb. I have a vivid recollection of Mr.
Hume's tragic air when he asked me to give you 'his kind regards.'"

"The dear boy! You have not yet told us why you left him in London."

In view of Mrs. Capella's outspokenness concerning her cousin, this was a
poser. Brett fenced with the query, and the announcement of dinner stopped
all personal references. The barrister's eyes wandered round the
dining-room. The shaded candles on the table did not permit much light to
fall on the walls, but such portraits as were visible showed that David
was right when he said the "Hume-Frazers were all alike." They were a
handsome, determined-looking race, strong, dour, inflexible.

The night was beautifully fine. The day seemed loth to die, and the
twilight lingering on the pleasant landscape tempted them outside, after
the butler had handed Brett a box of excellent cigars.

They went through the conservatory into the park, and sauntered over the
springy pastureland, whilst Brett amused the ladies by a carefully edited
account of his visit to the Jiro family.

An hour passed in pleasant chat. Then Miss Layton thought it was time she
went home, and Brett proposed to escort her to the Rectory, subsequently
picking up his conveyance at the inn.

They walked obliquely across the park towards the house, regaining it
through a clump of laurels and the conservatory.

It chanced that for a moment they were silent. Margaret led the way. Helen
followed. Brett came close behind.

When the mistress of Beechcroft Hall stepped on to the turf in front of
the library, a man who was standing under the yews a little way down