ou
_in_. I'm sure Miss Deane will be glad to talk to you. She is very fond
of books."

"I've seen her just once in the village,"--remarked Reay--"She seems to
be very much respected here. And what a beautiful woman she is!"

"You think so?" and Helmsley's eyes lighted with pleasure--"Well, I
think so, too--but they tell me that it's only because I'm old, and apt
to see everyone beautiful who is kind to me. There's a good deal in
that!--there's certainly a good deal in that!"

They could now see the garden gate of Mary's cottage through the boughs
of the great chestnut tree, which at this season was nearly stripped of
all its leaves, and which stood like a lonely forest king with some
scanty red and yellow rags of woodland royalty about him, in solitary
grandeur at the bending summit of the hill. And while they were yet
walking the few steps which remained of the intervening distance, Mary
herself came out to the gate, and, leaning one arm lightly across it,
watched them approaching. She wore a pale lilac print gown, high to the
neck and tidily finished off by a plain little muslin collar fastened
with a coquettish knot of black velvet,--her head was uncovered, and the
fitful gleams of the sinking sun shed a russet glow on her shining hair
and reddened the pale clear transparency of her skin. In that restful
waiting attitude, with a smile on her face, she made a perfect picture,
and Helmsley stole a side-glance at his companion, to see if he seemed
to be in any way impressed by her appearance. Angus Reay was certainly
looking at her, but what he thought could hardly be guessed by his
outward expression. They reached the gate, and she opened it.

"I was getting anxious about you, David!"--she said; "you aren't quite
strong enough to be out in such a cold wind." Then she turned her eyes
enquiringly on Reay, who lifted his cap while Helmsley explained his
presence.

"This is a gentleman who is staying in the village--Mr. Reay,"--he
said--"He's been very kind in helping me up the hill--and I said you
would give him a cup of tea."

"Why, of course!"--and Mary smiled--"Please come in, sir!"

She led the way, and in another few minutes, all three of them were
seated in her little kitchen round the table and Mary was busy pouring
out the tea and dispensing the usual good things that are always found
in the simplest Somersetshire cottage,--cream, preserved fruit, scones,
home-made bread and fresh butter.

"So you met Da