e way. The
boy's rooms are in a separate wing, and would not interfere at all with
visitors. I said to him once that I was sure Miss Helena would be very
fond of the little fellow. But he frowned and looked distressed. 'I
should scarcely allow her to see him,' he said. I asked why. 'Because a
young girl ought to be protected from anything irremediably sad. Life
should be always bright for her. And I can still make it bright for
Helena--I intend to make it bright.'

"Good-bye, my dear Mrs. Friend. John and I miss you very much."

A last sentence which gave Lucy Friend a quite peculiar pleasure. Her
modest ministrations in the parish and the school had amply earned it.
But it amazed her that anyone should attach any value to them. And that
Mr. Alcott should miss her--why, it was ridiculous!

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Helena, returning to the
inn along the river bank, with Bobby clinging to her skirt.

"Take him in tow, please," said Helena through the window. "I am going to
walk a little way to meet Geoffrey."

Bobby's chubby hand held her so firmly that he could only be detached
from her by main force. He was left howling in Mrs. Friend's grasp, till
Helena, struck with compunction, turned back from the bend of the road,
to stuff a chocolate into his open mouth, and then ran off again,
laughing at the sudden silence which had descended on hill and stream.

Through the intermittent shade and sunshine of the day, Helena stepped
on. She had never held herself so erect; never felt so conscious of an
intense and boundless vitality. Yet she was quite uncertain as to what
the next few hours would bring her. Peter had given a hint--that she was
sure; and she was now, it seemed, to be wooed in earnest. On Geoffrey's
former visit, she had teased him so continuously, and put so many petty
obstacles of all kinds in his way, that he had finally taken his cue from
her, and they had parted, in a last whirlwind of "chaff," but secretly
angry, with each other or themselves.

"He might have held out a little longer," thought Helena. "When shall I
ever get a serious word from her?" thought French.

Slowly she descended the long and winding hill leading to the village.
From the few scattered cottages and farms in sight, flags were fluttering
out. Groups of school children were scattered along the road, waving
little flags and singing. Over the wide valley below her, with its woody
hills and silver river, floated