ry sure it pleased them. Somehow the ladies were growing
gracious toward her, from having previously felt too humble, it may be.
She was girlish in her manner, and not imposing in her figure. She would
be a sweet mystery to talk about, they thought: but she had ceased to be
quite the same mystery to them.

"I would go on singing to you," she said; "I could sing all night long:
but my people at the farm will not keep supper for me, when it's late,
and I shall have to go hungry to bed, if I wait."

"Have you far to go?" ventured Adela.

"Only to Wilson's farm; about ten minutes' walk through the wood," she
answered unhesitatingly.

Arabella wished to know whether she came frequently to this lovely spot.

"When it does not rain, every evening," was the reply.

"You feel that the place inspires you?" said Cornelia.

"I am obliged to come," she explained. "The good old dame at the farm is
ill, and she says that music all day is enough for her, and I must come
here, or I should get no chance of playing at all at night."

"But surely you feel an inspiration in the place, do you not?" Cornelia
persisted.

She looked at this lady as if she had got a hard word given her to
crack, and muttered: "I feel it quite warm here. And I do begin to love
the place."

The stately Cornelia fell back a step.

The moon was now a silver ball on the edge of the circle of grey blue
above the ring of firs, and by the light falling on the strange little
person, as she stood out of the shadow to muffle up her harp, it could
be seen that she was simply clad, and that her bonnet was not of the
newest fashion. The sisters remarked a boot-lace hanging loose. The
peculiar black lustre of her hair, and thickness of her long black
eyebrows, struck them likewise. Her harp being now comfortably mantled,
Cornet Wilfrid Pole, who had been watching her and balancing repeatedly
on his forward foot, made a stride, and "really could not allow her to
carry it herself," and begged her permission that he might assist her.
"It's very heavy, you know," he added.

"Too heavy for me," she said, favouring him with a thankful smile. "I
have some one who does that. Where is Jim?"

She called for Jim, and from the back of the sandy hillock, where he had
been reclining, a broad-shouldered rustic came lurching round to them.

"Now, take my harp, if you please, and be as careful as possible of
branches, and don't stumble." She uttered this as if she were giving J