th its mullioned windows, heavy, pillared coping, and angular chimney
stacks, made a picturesque background for the smooth-clipped yew hedges
and broad sweep of lawn. Behind it a wood of tall beeches raised their
naked boughs in pale, intricate tracery against the soft blue sky. The
shrubs proved worth inspection, for some were rich with berries of hues
that varied from crimson to lilac and the massed twigs of others formed
blotches of strong colouring. The grass was dry and lighted by gleams
of sunshine, the air only cold enough to make movement pleasant, and
Mrs. Chudleigh felt content as she paced a sheltered walk with Colonel
Challoner, whom she unobtrusively studied.

He looked rather stern and worn, and his soft grey tweed showed the
leanness of his figure, but his expression and bearing indicated force
of will. In his conversation with women he was marked by an air of
old-fashioned gallantry, and though his wit was now and then ironical
his companion found him attractive. She had cleverly appropriated and
separated him from the rest soon after they entered the garden, but she
was too clever to approach too soon the object she had in view. First
of all, she must ingratiate herself with him, and she saw that he liked
her society, though she made one or two mistakes about the shrubs in
which she professed a keen interest.

"I'm afraid you don't quite grasp my meaning," he said with a smile.
"It's a difference between varieties, not between species. They are
not the same thing."

"I should have remembered," Mrs. Challoner [Transcriber's note:
Chudleigh?] replied. "I must own that I'm not a botanist, but one can
appreciate the beauty of plants without knowing all about them.
Perhaps the same applies to beauty in any form."

"No doubt. Harmonies of outline, and concords of colour make an
unconscious appeal, but in Nature's products knowledge adds to
admiration. The deeper you probe, the more you reveal, until you come
to mysteries beyond our solving." He added with some dryness: "It's
often otherwise with man's work; knowledge means disillusion. You see
how the trick is done."

"Must it always be a trick?"

"Oh! no; not necessarily. There is a sincerity of effort that leads to
lasting and beautiful work, but perhaps it's not common."

"I'm afraid you're a pessimist."

"I wouldn't like to think so, but I have lived a long time and insisted
on using my eyes, even when clearsightedness may not have b