was caused to some extent by her good heart, but in a very large
degree by her restless and over-active brain. Her sphere was
scarcely large enough for her, she would have made an excellent head
of an orphan asylum or manager of some large institution, but her
quiet country life offered far too narrow a field for her energy.

"It is really quite a treat to watch Mr. Zaluski's play," she
remarked as they walked to the refreshment tent at the other end of
the lawn. "Certainly foreigners know how to move much better than
we do: our best players look awkward beside them."

"Do you think so?" said Mr. Blackthorne. "I am afraid I am full of
prejudice, and consider that no one can equal a true-born Briton."

"And I quite agree with you in the main," said Mrs. Milton-Cleave.
"Though I confess that it is rather refreshing to have a little
variety."

The curate was silent, but his silence merely covered his absorption
in me, and I began to exercise a faint influence through his mind on
the mind of his companion. This caused her at length to say:

"I don't think you quite like Mr. Zaluski. Do you know much about
him?"

"I have met him several times this summer," said the curate, in the
tone of one who could have said much more if he would.

The less satisfying his replies, the more Mrs. Milton-Cleave's
curiosity grew.