n came flying down the path. A lady, with her silk
dress turned over her shoulders, leaving only the white lining exposed
to view. She was face to face with Lionel before she saw him.

"Lucy!" he exclaimed, in extreme surprise.

Lucy Tempest laughed, and let her dress drop into a more dignified
position. "I and Decima went to call on Mrs. Bitterworth," she
explained, "and Decima is staying there. It began to rain as I came
out, so I turned into the back walk and put my dress up to save it. Am I
not economical, Mr. Verner?"

She spoke quickly. Lionel thought it was done with a view to hide her
agitation. "You cannot go home through this rain, Lucy. Let me take you
indoors; we are close to Verner's Pride."

"No, thank you," said Lucy hastily, "I must go back to Lady Verner. She
will not be pleased at Decima's staying out, therefore I must return.
Poor Mrs. Bitterworth has had an attack of--what did they call
it?--spasmodical croup, I think. She is better now, and begged Decima to
stay with her the rest of the day; Mr. Bitterworth and the rest of them
are out. Jan says it is highly dangerous for the time it lasts."

"She has had something of the same sort before, I remember," observed
Lionel. "I wish you would come in, Lucy. If you must go home, I will
send you in the carriage; but I think you might stay and dine with us."

A soft colour mantled in Lucy's cheeks. She had never made herself a
familiar acquaintance at Lionel Verner's. He had observed it, if no one
else had. Sibylla had once said to her that she hoped they should be
great friends, that Verner's Pride would see a great deal of her. Lucy
had never responded to the wish. A formal visit with Decima or Lady
Verner when she could not help herself; but alone, in a social manner,
she had never put her foot over the threshold of Verner's Pride.

"You are very kind. I must go home at once. The rain will not hurt me."

Lionel, self-conscious, did not urge it further. "Will you remain here,
then, under the trees, while I go home and get an umbrella?"

"Oh, dear, no, I don't want an umbrella; thank you all the same. I have
my parasol, you see."

She took her dress up again as she spoke; not high, as it was
previously, but turning it a little. "Lady Verner scolds me so if I
spoil my things," she said, in a tone of laughing apology. "She buys me
very good ones, and orders me to take care of them. Good-bye, Mr.
Verner."

Lionel took the hand in his which she held