two or three other houses of more genteel pretensions.

Gilbert Fenton wondered which of these was the habitation of Captain
Sedgewick, concluding that the half-pay officer and his niece must needs
live in one of them. He reconnoitred them as he went by the low
garden-fences, over which he could see the pretty lawns and flower-beds,
with clusters of evergreens here and there, and a wealth of roses and
seringa. One of them, the prettiest and most secluded, was also the
smallest; a low white-walled cottage, with casement windows above, and
old-fashioned bow-windows below, and a porch overgrown with roses. The
house lay back a little way from the green; and there was a tiny brook
running beside the holly hedge that bounded the garden, spanned by a
little rustic bridge before the gate.

Pausing just beside this bridge, Mr. Fenton heard the joyous barking of a
dog, and caught a brief glimpse of a light muslin dress flitting across
the little lawn at one side of the cottage While he was wondering about
the owner of this dress, the noisy dog came rushing towards the gate, and
in the next moment a girlish figure appeared in the winding path that
went in and out among the flower-beds.

Gilbert Fenton knew that tall slim figure very well. He had guessed
rightly, and this low white-walled cottage was really Captain
Sedgewick's. It seemed to him as if a kind of instinct brought him to
that precise spot.

Miss Nowell came to the gate, and stood there looking out, with a Skye
terrier in her arms. Gilbert drew back a little, and flung his cigar into
the brook. She had not seen him yet. Her looks were wandering far away
across the green, as if in search of some one.