st
yourself, then, Mrs. Woodgate?" For they had been talking of the gardens
and of their history as they walked.

"I?" laughed Morna. "I only wish I was; but I happen to remember Mr.
Steel telling me that one day when we were here last summer."

Rachel opened her eyes again, and her lips with them; but instead of
speaking she went to the nearest gum-tree and picked a spray of the
lacklustre leaves. "I like the smell of them," she said, as they went
on; and the little incident left no impression upon Morna's mind.

Yet presently she perceived that Mrs. Steel had some color after all--at
the moment Rachel happened to be smelling her gum-leaves--and that she
was altogether prettier than Morna had fancied hitherto. The fact was
that it was her first good look at Rachel, who had kept her back to the
light indoors, and had literally led the way along the narrow paths,
while her large hat had supplied a perpetual shadow of its own. It was a
pathetic habit, which had become second nature with Rachel during the
last six months; but now, for once, it was forgotten, and her face
raised unguardedly to the sun, which painted it in its true and sweet
colors, to Morna's surprise and real delight. The vicar's wife was one
of those healthy-hearted young women who are the first to admire their
own sex; she had very many friends among women, for whom marriage had
not damped an enthusiasm which she hid from no one but themselves; and
she was to be sufficiently enthusiastic about the thin but perfect oval
of Rachel's face, the soft, sweet hazel of her eyes, the impetuous upper
lip and the brave lower one, as she saw them now for an instant in the
afternoon sun.

Moreover, she was already interested in Rachel on her own account, and
not only as the wife of the mysterious Mr. Steel. There was an undoubted
air of mystery about her also; but that might only be derived from him,
and with all her reserve she could not conceal a sweet and sympathetic
self from one as like her in that essential as they were different in
all others. Not that the reserve was all on one side. Morna Woodgate had
her own secrets too. One of them, however, was extracted during their
stroll.

"May I make a personal remark?" asked Rachel, who had been admiring the
pale brown face of Morna in her turn, as they came slowly back to the
house across the lawns.

"You frighten me," said Morna, laughing. "But let me hear the worst."

"It's the ribbon on your hat," went on