on a visit when I heard that--that our home was
broken up. I stayed on for some time: I had nowhere to go."

"Miss Lisle lives in a red house by the river-side," said Percival,
prompted by a sudden impulse.

It was Judith's turn to look surprised: "Yes, she does. But, Mr. Thorne,
how do you know?"

"The garden slopes to the water's edge," he went on, not heeding her. "And
there is a wide gravel-path down the middle, cutting it exactly in two. It
is all very neat--it is wonderfully neat--and Miss Lisle comes down the
path, looking right and left to see whether all the carnations and the
chrysanthemum-plants are tied up properly, and whether there are any
snails."

"Mr. Thorne, who told you--? No, you must have seen."

"But you didn't walk with her. There was a cross-path behind some
evergreens."

"Yes," said Judith: "I hated to be seen then. I couldn't go beyond the
garden, and I used to walk backward and forward there, so many times to a
mile--I forget how many now. But, Mr. Thorne, tell me, how do you know all
this?"

"It is simple enough," he said. "I was at Rookleigh one day, and I
strolled along the path by the river. You can see the house from the
farther side. I stood and looked at it."

"Yes, but how did you know whose house it was?"

"I hadn't the least idea. But it took my fancy--why I don't know. And
while I was looking I saw that some one came and went behind the
evergreens."

"Then it was only a guess when you began to describe it?"

"Well, I suppose so. It must have been, mustn't it?" he said, looking
curiously at her. "But it felt like a certainty."

They were just at St. Sylvester's, and Bertie ran up panting, waving his
music. "Lucky I've not got to sing," said the young fellow in a jerky
voice, and rushed to the vestry-door, where Mr. Clifton fidgeted, watch in
hand. After such a race it was natural enough that the young organist
should be somewhat flushed as he went up the aisle with a surpliced boy at
his heels. But Judith had not hurried--had rather lingered, looking back.
What was the meaning of that soft rosy glow upon her cheeks? And why was
Thorne so absent, standing up and sitting down mechanically, till the
service was half over before he knew it?

He was recalling that day at Rookleigh--the red houses by the water-side,
the poplars, the pigeons, the old church, the sleepy streets, the hot blue
sky, the gray glitter of the river through the boughs, and the girl half
seen behind