CHAPTER III


I had lived six weeks at Bristed Hall, and, excepting on my first
arrival, had not interchanged a word with its master. 'Tis true I would
see him at times from the school-room window, walking through his park,
or smoking upon the long piazza, but he might have been across the ocean
for all the intercourse we had together.

It was early June; roses bloomed on every hedge. A season of dry weather
had succeeded the showers of spring, the mornings were sparkling, the air
delicious. I arose early one particularly sunny morn, that I might take a
walk, before the studies of the day commenced, to a natural lake which I
had discovered about a mile from the Hall.

Herbert begged to accompany me, and I, who loved at times the quiet of my
own thoughts, reluctantly granted his request.

We strolled out of the inclosure, and were leisurely wending our way over
the road, when our attention was attracted by the sound of wheels
emerging from a cross path. A carriage rolled briskly in view. The little
hand of my companion, which I held locked in mine, trembled violently.

"Oh, Miss Agnes, Miss Agnes!" he cried, pointing to the occupant of the
carriage, "there is Uncle Richard."

As it neared us, the driver reined in his horses, which snorted
impatiently as he paused, and a musical voice called out: