companion. Mrs. Friend found herself introduced to Lady Cynthia Welwyn,
the tall lady in black; to Mr. Parish, the grey-haired man, and to the
clergyman. Lady Cynthia bestowed on her a glance from a pair of prominent
eyes, and a few civil remarks, Mr. Parish made her an old-fashioned bow,
and hoped she had not found the journey too dusty, while the clergyman,
whose name she caught as Mr. Alcott, showed a sudden animation as they
shook hands, and had soon put her at her ease by a manner in which she at
once divined a special sympathy for the stranger within the gates.

"You have just come, I gather?"

"I only arrived this afternoon."

"And you are to look after Miss Helena?" he smiled.

Mrs. Friend smiled too.

"I hope so. If she will let me!"

"She is a radiant creature!" And for a moment he stood watching the girl,
as she stood, goddess-like, amid her group of admirers. His eyes were
deep-set and tired; his scanty grizzled hair fell untidily over a
furrowed brow; and his clothes were neither fresh nor well-brushed. But
there was something about him which attracted the lonely; and Mrs. Friend
was glad when she found herself assigned to him.

But though her neighbour was not difficult to talk to, her surroundings
were so absorbing to her that she talked very little at dinner. It was
enough to listen and look--at Lady Cynthia on Lord Buntingford's right
hand, and Helena Pitstone on his left; or at the handsome officer with