flower-cups adorned with glittering drops of dew. She walked across the
spacious sweep of short-cropped sod, and gazed enraptured at the country
spread out below. She could have kissed the soft white sheep dotting the
fields and lying in gentle, huddled groups under the trees.

"The darlings!" she said, in a little, effusive outburst.

She talked to the dog and fondled him. He seemed to understand her mood,
and pressed close against her gown when she stopped. They walked
together about the gardens, and presently picked up an exuberant
retriever, which bounded and wriggled and at once settled into a steady
trot beside them. Emily adored the flowers as she walked by their beds,
and at intervals stopped to bury her face in bunches of spicy things.
She was so happy that the joy in her hazel eyes was pathetic.

She was startled, as she turned into a rather narrow rose-walk, to see
Lord Walderhurst coming toward her. He looked exceedingly clean in his
fresh light knickerbocker suit, which was rather becoming to him. A
gardener was walking behind, evidently gathering roses for him, which he
put into a shallow basket. Emily Fox-Seton cast about for a suitable
remark to make, if he should chance to stop to speak to her. She
consoled herself with the thought that there were things she really
_wanted_ to say about the beauty of the gardens, and certain clumps of
heavenly-blue campanulas, which seemed made a feature of in the
herbaceous borders. It was so much nicer not to be obliged to invent
observations. But his lordship did not stop to speak to her. He was
interested in his roses (which, she heard afterward, were to be sent to
town to an invalid friend), and as she drew near, he turned aside to
speak to the gardener. As Emily was just passing him when he turned
again, and as the passage was narrow, he found himself unexpectedly