said Lady Belstone.

"I dare say something has detained her," said the canon,
good-humouredly.

"It often happens that my sister and myself are kept waiting a quarter
of an hour or more for our tea. We do not complain," said Lady
Belstone.

John Crewys began to feel a little sorry for Lady Mary.

As the sisters appeared inclined to devote themselves to their
clerical visitor rather exclusively, he drew near the recess to which
Dr. Blundell had retired, and joined him in the oriel window.

"Have you never been here before?" asked the doctor, rather abruptly.

"Never," said John Crewys, smiling. "I understand my cousins are not
much given to entertaining visitors. I have never, in fact, seen any
of them but once before. That was at Sir Timothy's wedding, twenty
years ago."

"Barely nineteen," said the doctor.

"I believe it was nineteen, since you remind me," said John, slightly
astonished. "I remember thinking Sir Timothy a lucky man."

"I dare say _he_ looked much about the same as he does now," said the
doctor.

"Well," John said, "perhaps a little slimmer, you know. Not much. An
iron-grey, middle-aged-looking man. No; he has changed very little."

"He was born elderly, and he will die elderly," said the doctor,
shortly. "Neither the follies of youth nor the softening of age
will ever be known to Sir Timothy." He paused, noting the surprised
expression of John's face, and added apologetically, "I am a native of
these parts. I have known him all my life."

"And I am--only a stranger," said John. He hesitated, and lowered his
voice. "You know why I came?"

"Yes, I know. I am very glad you did come," said the doctor. His tone
changed. "Here is Lady Mary," he said.

John Crewys was struck by the sudden illumination of Dr. Blundell's
plain, dark face. The deeply sunken eyes glowed, and the sadness and
weariness of their expression were dispelled.

His eyes followed the direction of the doctor's gaze, and his own face
immediately reflected the doctor's interest.

Lady Mary was coming down the wide staircase, in the light of a group
of wax candles held by a tall bronze angel.

She was dressed with almost rigid simplicity, and her abundant
light-brown hair was plainly parted. She was pale and even
sad-looking, but beautiful still; with a delicate and regular profile,
soft blue eyes, and a sweet, rather tremulous mouth.

John's heart seemed to contract within him, and then beat fast with a
sensation that