have of kith or kin."

"They are not at all like you," returned Errington, letting his quiet,
but to her most embarrassing, eyes rest upon her face.

"Yet they are my only brother's children." Here Katherine paused with a
sense of relief; they had reached a stile where a footway led across
some fields and a piece of common overgrown with bracken and gorse. It
was the short-cut to Castleford, by which Cecil had led her to the
Melford Woods.

"Oh, do come round by the road, auntie," he exclaimed; "perhaps Mr.
Errington will let me ride his horse."

"I do not know if _he_ will, Cis, but I certainly will not. I am tired
too, dear, and want to get home the shortest way I can, so bid Mr.
Errington good-by, and come with me. No, don't shake hands; yours are
much too dirty."

"Never mind; when you are a big boy I'll give you a mount. Good by,
Master Charlie--_you_ are Charlie, are you not? Till we meet at dinner,
Miss Liddell." He raised his hat, and divining that she wished him to
let her get over the stile unassisted, he mounted his horse and rode
swiftly away.

"I am sure he would have given me a ride if you had gone by the road,
auntie," said Cecil, reproachfully.

"I could not have allowed, you, dear; so do not think about it."
Errington meanwhile rode on, unconsciously slackening his pace as he
mused. "No, she certainly has never seen me before, yet she knows me.
How? She was very glad to get rid of me just now. Why? I am inoffensive
enough. There is something uncommon about her; she gives me the idea of
having a history, which is anything but desirable for a young woman.
What fine eyes she has! She is something like that Sibyl of Guercino's
in the Capitol. Why does she object to me? It is rather absurd. I must
make her talk, then I shall find out."

Here his horse started, and broke the thread of his reflections. By the
time the steed had pranced and curvetted a little, Errington's thoughts
had turned into some of their usual graver channels, and Katherine
Liddell was--well, not absolutely forgotten.

The object of his reflections reached the house rather late for the
boys' tea, and expecting to find her hostess and Lady Alice enjoying the
same refreshment, she gave her warm out-door jacket to Cecil, who
immediately put it on as the best mode of taking it upstairs, and went
into Mrs. Ormonde's morning-room, where afternoon tea was always served.
It was a pleasant room in warm summer weather, as its aspect was