, and, for a day or two, the three ladies lived very
pleasantly together. Kate still wore her arm in a sling; but she was
able to walk out, and would take long walks in spite of the doctor's
prohibition. Of course, they went up on the mountains. Indeed, all
the walks from Vavasor Hall led to the mountains, unless one chose to
take the road to Shap. But they went up, across the beacon hill, as
though by mutual consent. There were no questions asked between them
as to the route to be taken; and though they did not reach the stone
on which they had once sat looking over upon Haweswater, they did
reach the spot upon which Kate had encountered her accident. "It was
here I fell," she said; "and the last I saw of him was his back, as
he made his way down into the valley, there. When I got upon my legs
I could still see him. It was one of those evenings when the clouds
are dark, but you can see all objects with a peculiar clearness
through the air. I stood here ever so long, holding my arm, and
watching him; but he never once turned to look back at me. Do you
know, Alice, I fancy that I shall never see him again."

"Do you suppose that he means to quarrel with you altogether?"

"I can hardly tell you what I mean! He seemed to me to be going away
from me, as though he went into another world. His figure against the
light was quite clear, and he walked quickly, and on he went, till
the slope of the hill hid him from me. Of course, I thought that he
would return to the Hall. At one time I almost feared that he would
come upon me through the woods, as I went back myself. But yet, I had
a feeling,--what people call a presentiment, that I should never see
him again."

"He has never written?"

"No; not a word. You must remember that he did not know that I had
hurt myself. I am sure he will not write, and I am sure, also, that I
shall not. If he wanted money I would send it to him, but I would not
write to him."

"I fear he will always want money, Kate."

"I fear he will. If you could know what I suffered when he made me
write that letter to you! But, of course, I was a beast. Of course, I
ought not to have written it."

"I thought it a very proper letter."

"It was a mean letter. The whole thing was mean! He should have
starved in the street before he had taken your money. He should have
given up Parliament, and everything else! I had doubted much about
him before, but it was that which first turned my heart against
him. I