meditative, and so changed from her old self,
might well have awakened the wonder of her friend. But whatever Hilda
may have thought, and whatever wonder she may have felt, she kept it
all to herself; for she was naturally reticent, and so secretive that
she never expressed in words any feelings which she might have about
things that went on around her. If Zillah chose to stay by herself,
or to sit in her company without speaking a word, it was not in Hilda
to question her or to remonstrate with her. She rather chose to
accommodate herself to the temper of her friend. She could also be
meditative and profoundly silent. While Zillah had been talkative,
she had talked with her; now, in her silence, she rivaled her as
well. She could follow Zillah in all her moods.

At the end of a month they returned to Chetwynde Castle, and resumed
the life which they had been leading there. Zillah's new mood seemed
to Hilda, and to others also, to last much longer than any one of
those many moods in which she had indulged before. But this proved to
be more than a mood. It was a change.

The promise which she had given to the Earl she had tried to fulfill
most conscientiously. She really had striven as much as possible to
"study." That better understanding, born of affection, which had
arisen between them, had formed a new motive within her, and rendered
her capable of something like application. But it was not until after
her visit to Pomeroy Court that she showed any effort that was at all
adequate to the purpose before her. The change that then came over
her seemed to have given her a new control over herself. And so it
was that, at last, the hours devoted to her studies were filled up by
efforts that were really earnest, and also really effective.

Under these circumstances, it happened that Zillah began at last to
engross Gualtier's attention altogether, during the whole of the time
allotted to her; and if he had sought ever so earnestly, he could not
have found any opportunity for a private interview with Hilda. What
her wishes might be was not visible; for, whether she wished it or
not, she did not, in any way, show it. She was always the same--calm,
cool, civil, to her music-teacher, and devoted to her own share of
the studies. Those little "asides" in which they had once indulged
were now out of the question; and, even if a favorable occasion had
arisen, Gualtier would not have ventured upon the undertaking. He,
for his part,