He put his arms round her and kissed her many times.

"Jasper," said Hilda after a few minutes, "I think the first wrong step
that I took--the first beginning of that unhappy time--was when I lost
my temper down at Little Staunton and gave up my engagement ring."

"No wonder you lost your temper when I was such a brute about
everything," said Quentyns. "It was my fault."

"No, no; it was mine."

"Have you missed the ring, Hilda?"

"Missed it?" she held up her slender finger. "My heart has been empty
without it," she said.

"Then let me put it on again for you."

"Can you? Is--isn't it sold?"

"Of course not. Do you think that I could sell that ring?"

"But--but the furniture in Judy's room?"

"When I saw that you must have Judy with you, Hilda, I went into debt
for the furniture. Oh, never mind all that now, my darling--the debt is
paid in full a week ago, and I have the receipt in my pocket. Now I am
going upstairs to fetch the ring."

CHAPTER XIX.

GOOD OMENS.

And so the shadows fall apart,
And so the west winds play;
And all the windows of my heart
I open to the day.

--WHITTIER.

Mildred Anstruther was paying a visit at the Rectory on the day that
Rivers and Judy walked in. Rivers was a very striking-looking man, and
all the Rectory people were so devoured with curiosity about him, and so
interested in all he said and did--in his reasons for coming down to
Little Staunton, and in his remarks about the Quentyns--that Judy's own
return to the family circle passed into utter insignificance. She was
there--they had none of them expected her, and as she chose to come
back, she was welcome of course.

It was a lovely day, and the whole party were out in the garden, when
Rivers and his little charge entered their midst.

Judy wore her green cloak and pretty black shady hat. There was a new
sort of picturesqueness about her, which Aunt Marjorie noticed in an
abstracted way; she put it down to "the polish which even a short
residence in the metropolis always gives;" she had not the faintest idea
that it was due to the dignity which a noble action can inspire.

Judy greeted everyone quite in her old manner, and was rather glad that
she was not fussed over, but taken quite as a matter-of-course.

Aunt Marjorie was too anxious about the cream for Rivers' tea to give
serious thoughts to anyone else just then. But when the young man had
departed to catc