steadily fixed on her, with equal steadiness on
her side.

"For my part," pursued Neelie, resenting Midwinter's insensibility to
her presence on the scene, "I think it a great liberty to treat papa's
garden as if it were the open park!"

The governess turned round, and gently interposed.

"My dear Miss Milroy," she remonstrated, "there are certain distinctions
to be observed. This gentleman is a friend of Mr. Armadale's. You could
hardly express yourself more strongly if he was a perfect stranger."

"I express my opinion," retorted Neelie, chafing under the satirically
indulgent tone in which the governess addressed her. "It's a matter of
taste, Miss Gwilt; and tastes differ." She turned away petulantly, and
walked back by herself to the cottage.

"She is very young," said Miss Gwilt, appealing with a smile to
Midwinter's forbearance; "and, as you must see for yourself, sir, she is
a spoiled child." She paused--showed, for an instant only, her surprise
at Midwinter's strange silence and strange persistency in keeping his
eyes still fixed on her--then set herself, with a charming grace and
readiness, to help him out of the false position in which he stood. "As
you have extended your walk thus far," she resumed, "perhaps you will
kindly favor me, on your return, by taking a message to your friend?
Mr. Armadale has been so good as to invite me to see the Thorpe Ambrose
gardens this morning. Will you say that Major Milroy permits me to
accept the invitation (in company with Miss Milroy) between ten and
eleven o'clock?" For a moment her eyes rested, with a renewed look
of interest, on Midwinter's face. She waited, still in vain, for an
answering word from him--smiled, as if his extraordinary silence amused
rather than angered her--and followed her pupil back to the cottage.

It was only when the last trace of her had disappeared that Midwinter
roused himself, and attempted to realize the position in which he
stood. The revelation of her beauty was in no respect answerable for
the breathless astonishment which had held him spell-bound up to this
moment. The one clear impression she had produced on him thus far began
and ended with his discovery of the astounding contradiction that her
face offered, in one feature after another, to the description in Mr.
Brock's letter. All beyond this was vague and misty--a dim consciousness
of a tall, elegant woman, and of kind words, modestly and gracefully
spoken to him, and nothin