in his other hand in which he carried his
riding-whip also. He whistled over his shoulder to his horse who
followed him like a dog.

The rain was gradually ceasing, but the clouds had wholly closed upon the
sunset. Avery did not want to walk in silence, but somehow she could not
help it. His hold upon her arm was as light as a feather, but she could
not help that either for the moment. She walked as one beneath a spell.

And before them the clouds slowly parted, and again there shone that
single, magic star, dazzingly pure against the darkness.

"Do you see that?" said Piers suddenly.

She assented almost under her breath.

For a moment she was conscious of the tightening of his hand at her
elbow. "It's the Star of Hope, Avery," he whispered. "Yours--and mine."
He stopped with the words. "Don't say anything!" he said hurriedly.
"Pretend you didn't hear, if--if you wish you hadn't. Goodbye!"

He thrust her basket into her hand, and turned from her.

A moment he stood as if to give her the opportunity of detaining him
if she so desired, and then as she made no sign he went to his horse
who waited a couple of yards away, mounted, and without word or salute
rode away.

Avery drew a deep, deep breath and walked on. There was a curious
sensation at her heart--almost a trapped feeling--such as she had never
before experienced. Again deeply she drew her breath, as if to rid
herself of some oppression. Life was difficult--life was difficult!

But presently, as she walked, the sense of oppression lessened. She
even faintly smiled to herself. What an odd, passionate youth he was!
It was impossible to be angry with him; better far not to take him
seriously at all.

She recalled old Mrs. Marshall's dour remarks concerning him;--"brought
up by men from his cradle," brought up, moreover, by that terrible old
Sir Beverley on the one hand and an irresponsible French valet on the
other. She caught herself wishing that she had had the upbringing of him,
and smiled again. There was a great deal of sweetness in his nature; of
that she was sure, and because of it she found she could forgive his
waywardness, reflecting that he had probably been mismanaged from his
earliest infancy.

At this point she reached the high-road, and heard the wheels of a
dog-cart behind her. She recognized the quick, hard trot of the doctor's
cob, and paused at the side of the road to let him pass. But the doctor's
eyes behind their glasses were keen