half-past five, and I walked on leisurely. I had not been
farther than the garden for three weeks, and the sudden sense of freedom
and space was exhilarating.

It was a lovely morning. A dewy freshness seemed on everything; the birds
were singing deliciously; the red curtains were drawn across the windows
of the Man and Plough; a few white geese waddled slowly across the green;
some brown speckled hens were feeding under the horse-trough; a goat
browsing by the roadside looked up, quite startled, as I passed him,
and butted slowly at me in a reflective manner. There was a scent of
sweet-brier, of tall perfumy lilies and spicy carnations from the
gardens. I looked at the windows of the houses I passed, but the blinds
were drawn, and the bees and the flowers were the only waking things
there. The village seemed asleep, until I turned the corner, and there,
coming out of the vicarage gate, was Uncle Max himself. He was walking
along slowly, with his old felt hat in his hand, reading his little
Greek Testament as he walked, and the morning sun shining on his
uncovered head and his brown beard.

He did not see me until I was close to him, and then he started, and an
expression of fear crossed his face.

'Ursula, my dear, were you coming to the vicarage? Nothing is wrong,
I hope?' looking at me anxiously.

'Wrong! what should be wrong on such a morning?' I returned playfully.
'Is it not delicious? The air is like champagne; only champagne never had
the scent of those flowers in it. The world is just a big dewy bouquet.
It is good only to be alive on such a morning.'

Max put his Greek Testament in his pocket and regarded me dubiously.

'Were you not coming to meet me, then? It is not a quarter to six yet.
Rather early for an aimless stroll, is it not, my dear?'

'Oh yes, I was coming to meet you,' I returned carelessly. 'I thought you
would be at work in the garden. Max, you are eying me suspiciously: you
think I have something important to tell you. Now you must not be
disappointed; I have very little to say, and I cannot answer questions;
but there is one thing, I have found out all you wish to know about
Captain Hamilton.'

It was sad to see the quick change in his face,--the sudden cloud that
crossed it at the mention of the man whom he regarded as his rival. He
did not speak; not a question came from his lips; but he listened as
though my next word might be the death-warrant to his hopes.

'Max, do not look li