flowers. Noiselessly and smoothly she
came on, with a gentle and regular undulation of the print gown; with
the love-lock softly lifted from moment to moment in the evening breeze;
with her head a little drooped, and her eyes on the ground--in walk, and
look, and manner, in every casual movement that escaped her, expressing
that subtle mixture of the voluptuous and the modest which, of the many
attractive extremes that meet in women, is in a man's eyes the most
irresistible of all.

"Mr. Bashwood!" she exclaimed, in loud, clear tones indicative of the
utmost astonishment, "what a surprise to find you here! I thought none
but the wretched inhabitants ever ventured near this side of the town.
Hush!" she added quickly, in a whisper. "You heard right when you heard
that Mr. Armadale was going to have me followed and watched. There's
a man behind one of the houses. We must talk out loud of indifferent
things, and look as if we had met by accident. Ask me what I am doing.
Out loud! Directly! You shall never see me again, if you don't instantly
leave off trembling and do what I tell you!"

She spoke with a merciless tyranny of eye and voice--with a merciless
use of her power over the feeble creature whom she addressed. Mr.
Bashwood obeyed her in tones that quavered with agitation, and with eyes
that devoured her beauty in a strange fascination of terror and delight.

"I am trying to earn a little money by teaching music," she said, in the
voice intended to reach the spy's ears. "If you are able to recommend me
any pupils, Mr. Bashwood, your good word will oblige me. Have you been
in the grounds to-day?" she went on, dropping her voice again in a
whisper. "Has Mr. Armadale been near the cottage? Has Miss Milroy been
out of the garden? No? Are you sure? Look out for them to-morrow, and
next day, and next day. They are certain to meet and make it up again,
and I must and will know of it. Hush! Ask me my terms for teaching
music. What are you frightened about? It's me the man's after--not you.
Louder than when you asked me what I was doing, just now; louder, or I
won't trust you any more; I'll go to somebody else!"

Once more Mr. Bashwood obeyed. "Don't be angry with me," he murmured,
faintly, when he had spoken the necessary words. "My heart beats so
you'll kill me!"

"You poor old dear!" she whispered back, with a sudden change in her
manner, with an easy satirical tenderness. "What business have you with
a heart at your ag