urselves, and the prospect of being alone together for six
months to come.'

I asked her if she had seen much of Mr. Stormont since that
memorable Sunday afternoon.

'He has been here twice,' she said, 'for his usual short visit from
Saturday afternoon till Monday morning, and he has treated me just
as if that uncomfortable interview had never taken place.'

We were very happy together in the great lonely house, amongst old
servants, who seemed to take a pleasure in waiting on us. We spent
our mornings and evenings in Milly's sitting-room, and took our
meals in a snug prettily-furnished breakfast-room on the ground-
floor. We read together a great deal, going through a systematic
course of study of a very different kind from the dry labours at
Albury Lodge. There was a fine old library at Thornleigh, and we
read the masters of English and French prose together with
unflagging interest and pleasure. Besides all this, Milly worked
hard at her music, and still harder at her painting, which was a
real delight to her.

Mr. Collingwood the rector, and his family, came to see us, and
insisted on our visiting them frequently in a pleasant unceremonious
manner; and we had other invitations from Milly's old friends in the
neighbourhood of Thornleigh.

There were carriages at our disposal, but we did not often use them.
Milly preferred walking; and we used to take long rambles together
whenever the weather was favourable--rambles across the moor, or far
away over the hills, or deep into the wood between Thornleigh and
Cumber.

CHAPTER VI.

A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.

It was shortly after my arrival at Thornleigh that I first saw the
man whose story I had heard in the study at Cumber Priory. Milly and
I had been together about a fortnight, and it was the end of
January--cold, clear, bright weather--when we set out early one
afternoon for a ramble in our favourite wood, Milly furnished with
pencils and sketch-book, in order to jot down any striking effect of
the gaunt leafless old trees. She had a hardy disregard of cold in
her devotion to her art, and would sit down to sketch in the bitter
January weather in spite of my entreaties.

We stayed out longer than usual, and Milly had stopped once or twice
to make a hasty sketch, when the sky grew suddenly dark, and big
drops of rain began to fall slowly. There were speedily succeeded by
a pelting storm of rain and hail, and we felt that we were caught,
and must be drenched