the tear-dimmed eyes of the girl who had gone miserably down to the
lily-pond.

Fair haired was Hugh, ruddy of cheek, with no particular beauty to boast
of, save the wholesomeness and cleanliness of his young manhood. He
seemed to bring into the room a scent of the open country, of the good
brown earth and of the clean wind of heaven.

"Hello, Hugh!" said Lady Linden.

"Hello, my lady," said he, and kissed her. It had been his habit from
boyhood, also it had been his lifelong habit to love and respect the old
dame, and to feel not the slightest fear of her. In this he was
singular, and because he was the one person who did not fear her she
preferred him to anyone else.

"Hugh," she said--she went straight to the point, she always did; as a
hunter goes at a hedge, so her ladyship without prevarication went at
the matter she had in hand--"I have been talking to Marjorie about Tom
Arundel--"

His cheery face grew a little grave.

"Yes?"

"Well, it is absurd--you realise that?"

"I suppose so, but--" He paused.

"It is childish folly!"