m fond of
churches, and we spent the afternoon in Notre Dame."

Mrs. Ashborne said it was worth seeing and conversation languished for
the next three or four minutes, after which Mrs. Chudleigh moved
forward imperiously and took Sedgwick away. Mrs. Keith turned to her
companion with an amused expression.

"I daresay you noticed that he didn't mind keeping her waiting."

"I thought he meant to flout her when he acted on her suggestion, and I
half expected something of a scene," said Mrs. Ashborne. "The woman
has a temper."

Mrs. Keith smiled. "The man is a fortune hunter, but he's taking the
right way. She's used to admiration, and her other suitors have, no
doubt, deferred to her. It's a change to be defied instead of courted,
and though it makes her angry I imagine it strengthens his hold. If he
shows his is the firmer hand, she'll give in."

"You're taking it for granted that she's in love with him."

"It looks like it," Mrs. Keith replied. "He has his attractions and
has done one or two dashing things of the kind that catches the public
eye. However, I have some English letters to write, and I think we'll
go in."

Next evening, about an hour before sunset, Challoner and his wife
leaned upon the rails of a wooden gallery built out from the rock on
the summit of the green mountain that rises close behind Montreal. It
is a view-point that visitors frequent, and they gazed with
appreciation at the wide landscape. Wooded slopes led steeply down to
the stately colleges of McGill and the rows of picturesque houses along
Sherbrook Avenue; lower yet, the city, shining in the clear evening
light, spread across the plain, dominated by its cathedral dome and the
towers of Notre Dame. Green squares with trees in them checkered the
blocks of buildings; along its skirts, where a haze of smoke hung about
the wharves, the great river gleamed in a broad silver band. On the
farther bank the plain ran on again, fading from green to grey and
purple until it melted into the distance and the hills on the Vermont
frontier cut, faintly blue, against the sky.

"How beautiful this world is!" Challoner exclaimed. "I have seen
grander sights and there are more picturesque cities than Montreal--I'm
looking forward to showing you the work of the Moguls in India--but
happiness such as I've had of late casts a glamour over everything. It
wasn't always so with me; I've had my bad hours when I was blind to
beauty."

Though Bl