eemed a pity to
leave it. No frosts had fallen to dim the glory of the flowers. The
honeysuckles were still starred with their white, gold-anthered
blossoms; the geranium beds looked as gay, the foliage plants as superb
as ever; while the green of the grass was as fresh as in July. Here and
there a little drift of yellow leaves lay under the trees, but it was
the only sign of autumn. Georgie gathered a great basketful of
nasturtiums, heliotrope, and mignonette to carry down to Miss Gisborne,
and Marian was sent off in the village-cart with a similar basketful for
Mrs. Frewen. The house was all in a confusion of packing. Frederic was
wrapping tissue-paper round the picture-frames, Elizabeth counting linen
and silver, the gardeners emptying the balcony boxes. Mrs. Gray proposed
that Gertrude and Candace should go for a last walk on the Cliffs, and
so be out of the way of these discomforts.

"There is nothing for you to do," she said. "Only don't stay too late,
and come in before it grows dark. We are to have a 'thick tea' at
half-past six, in place of a regular dinner. I thought it would be less
trouble on this busy day."

It was to Pulpit Rock that the two cousins bent their way. The Cliffs
were even lonelier now than they had been when Candace first visited
them. There were no bathers in the surf; no carriages were drawn up on
the higher part of the beach, and the road leading around Easton's Point
showed only a few scattered figures and one solitary horseman on its
entire length. Here and there along the windings of the Cliff Walk a
single walker appeared, dark against the brightness of the sky, or two
girls were seen pacing the smooth gravel, with fluttering dresses, and
hair blown by the soft October wind. The sea was as beautiful in color
as ever, but it had changed with the change of the season. The blue
seemed more rarefied, the opalescent tints more intense; deep purple
reflections lay in the shadows made by the rocky points, and there was a
bright clearness of atmosphere quite unlike the dream-like mistiness of
the summer.

The cousins sat side by side on the big rock, just where they had sat on
that June day which seemed to Candace so long ago. Gertrude was no
longer critical or scornful. She sat a little farther back than Candace,
and from time to time glanced at her side-face with a sort of puzzled
expression. Cannie, happening to turn, caught the look; it embarrassed
her a little, and to hide the embarras