society. This was my unlucky case. I went to Lord Lepel's
house sorely against my will; longing already for the day when it would
be time to say good-by.

The routine of my uncle's establishment had remained unaltered since my
last experience of it.

I found my lord expressing the same pride in his collection of old
masters, and telling the same story of the wonderful escape of his
picture-gallery from fire--I renewed my acquaintance with the same
members of Parliament among the guests, all on the same side in
politics--I joined in the same dreary amusements--I saluted the same
resident priest (the Lepels are all born and bred Roman Catholics)--I
submitted to the same rigidly early breakfast hour; and inwardly cursed
the same peremptory bell, ringing as a means of reminding us of our
meals. The one change that presented itself was a change out of the
house. Death had removed the lodgekeeper at the park-gate. His widow and
daughter (Mrs. Rymer and little Susan) remained in their pretty cottage.
They had been allowed by my lord's kindness to take charge of the gate.

Out walking, on the morning after my arrival, I was caught in a shower
on my way back to the park, and took shelter in the lodge.

In the bygone days I had respected Mrs. Rymer's husband as a thoroughly
worthy man--but Mrs. Rymer herself was no great favorite of mine. She
had married beneath her, as the phrase is, and she was a little
too conscious of it. A woman with a sharp eye to her own interests;
selfishly discontented with her position in life, and not very
scrupulous in her choice of means when she had an end in view: that is
how I describe Mrs. Rymer. Her daughter, whom I only remembered as a
weakly child, astonished me when I saw her again after the interval that
had elapsed. The backward flower had bloomed into perfect health.
Susan was now a lovely little modest girl of seventeen--with a natural
delicacy and refinement of manner, which marked her to my mind as one
of Nature's gentlewomen. When I entered the lodge she was writing at
a table in a corner, having some books on it, and rose to withdraw. I
begged that she would proceed with her employment, and asked if I might
know what it was. She answered me with a blush, and a pretty brightening
of her clear blue eyes. "I am trying, sir, to teach myself French," she
said. The weather showed no signs of improving--I volunteered to help
her, and found her such an attentive and intelligent pupil that