regard to himself, his sayings and
doings. Their talk yesterday had, he flattered himself, terminated in
his favour; chiefly, because of his attitude of entire frankness, a
compliment to the girl. That he had been, in the strict sense of the
word, open-hearted, it did not occur to him to doubt. Dyce Lashmar's
introspection stopped at a certain point. He was still a very young
man, and circumstance had never yet shown him an austere countenance.

The sun was shining, the air exquisitely fresh. Lady Ogram had not
named the hour of luncheon, but it seemed to Dyce that he could hardly
present himself at Rivenoak before one o'clock; so, instead of
directing his steps towards the lodge; he struck off into a by-road,
where the new-opened leafage of the hawthorn glistened after the
morning's showers. Presently there came speeding towards him a lady on
a bicycle, and he was sure that it was Constance. She did not slacken
her pace; clearly she would not stop.

"Good morning!" sounded cheerfully from her, as she drew near. "Have
you seen the mill?--Come up to the house as soon as you like."

She had swept past, leaving in Dyce a sense of having been cavalierly
treated.

He turned, and followed towards Rivenoak. When he reached the house,
Constance was walking among the flower-beds, in her hand a newspaper.

"Do you cycle?" she asked.

"No. I never felt tempted."

"Lady Ogram is having her drive. Shall we stay in the garden, as the
sun is so bright?"

They strolled hither and thither. Constance had a glow in her checks,
and spoke with agreeable animation. For a few minutes they talked of
the mill, and Dyce repeated the manager's remark about Miss Bride's
influence; he saw that it pleased her, but she affected to put it
carelessly aside.

"How long have you known Lady Ogram?" he inquired.

"A good many years. My father was once a friend of hers--long ago, when
he was a curate at Hollingford."

The circumstances of that friendship, and how it came to an end, were
but vaguely known to Constance. She remembered that, when she was still
a child, her mother often took her to Rivenoak, where she enjoyed
herself in the gardens or the park, and received presents from Lady
Ogram, the return journey being often made in their hostess's carriage.
In those days the baronet's wife was a vigorous adherent of the Church
of England, wherein she saw the hope of the country and of mankind. But
her orthodoxy discriminated; ever combative