aiety. I was
thankful that a grand horticultural _fete_ kept all the aunts and cousins
away, with the exception of the two who were riding with Jill.

Clayton brought us out some tea presently, and we found plenty of topics
for conversation.

All at once I stopped in the middle of a conversation.

'Mr. Tudor, have my eyes deceived me, or was that Leah?'

'Who?--what Leah? I do not know whom you mean!' he returned, rather
stupidly, staring in another direction. There was a cavalcade coming up
the road,--a tall slim girl, on a chestnut mare, riding on in front with
a young man, another girl and an elderly man with a gray moustache
following them, a groom bringing up the rear.

Of course it was Jill, smiling and waving towards the balcony; she could
not see Mr. Tudor under the awning, but she had caught sight of my silk
dress. Jill looked very well on horseback: people always turned round to
watch her. She had a good seat, and rode gracefully; the dark habit
suited her; she braided her unmanageable locks into an invisible net that
kept them tidy.

'Is that Miss Jocelyn?' asked Lawrence, almost in a voice of awe. The
young curate grew very red as Jill rode under the balcony and nodded to
him in a friendly manner.

'There is Mr. Tudor,' we heard her say. 'Be quick and lift me off my
horse, Clarence.' But she had slipped to the ground before her cousin
could touch her, and had run indoors.

Mr. Tudor went into the room at once, but I sat still for a moment.
Why had I asked him? Of course it was Leah. I could see her strange
light-coloured eyes glancing up in my direction. What was she doing in
London? I wondered. She was dressed well, evidently in her mistress's
cast-off clothes, for she wore a handsome silk dress and mantle. Had they
quarrelled and parted? I felt instinctively that it would be a good day
for Gladwyn if Leah ever shook off its dust from her feet. Gladys
regarded her as a spy and informer, and she had evidently an unwholesome
influence over her mistress.

We separated soon after this to dress for dinner, and Mr. Tudor went to
his hotel. I was rather sorry when I came downstairs to find that Jill
had made rather a careless toilet. She wore the flimsy Indian muslin gown
that I thought so unbecoming to her style, with a string of gold beads of
curious Florentine work round her neck. She looked so different from the
graceful young Amazon who had ridden up an hour ago that I felt provoked,
and was not su