eccentricity in his thoughts
and ways, by whom he was hospitably received, and invited to return
whenever it pleased him. It was not very long before Franks asked
permission to make the Pomfrets acquainted with his friend Warburton, a
step which proved entirely justifiable. Together or separately, the two
young men were often to be seen at Ashtead, whither they were attracted
not only by the kindly and amusing talk of Ralph Pomfret, but at least
as much by the grace and sweetness and sympathetic intelligence of the
mistress of the house, for whom both entertained respect and admiration.

One Sunday afternoon, Warburton, tempted as usual by the thought of tea
and talk in that delightful little garden, went out to Ashtead, and, as
he pushed open the gate, was confused and vexed at the sight of
strangers; there, before the house, stood a middle-aged gentleman and a
young girl, chatting with Mrs. Pomfret. He would have turned away and
taken himself off in disappointment, but that the clank of the gate had
attracted attention, and he had no choice but to move forward. The
strangers proved to be Mrs. Pomfret's brother and his daughter; they
had been spending half a year in the south of France, and were here for
a day or two before returning to their home at Bath. When he had
recovered his equanimity, Warburton became aware that the young lady
was fair to look upon. Her age seemed about two-and-twenty; not very
tall, she bore herself with perhaps a touch of conscious dignity and
impressiveness; perfect health, a warm complexion, magnificent hair,
eyes that shone with gaiety and good-nature, made of Rosamund Elvan a
living picture such as Will Warburton had not often seen; he was shy in
her presence, and by no means did himself justice that afternoon. His
downcast eyes presently noticed that she wore shoes of a peculiar
kind--white canvas with soles of plaited cord; in the course of
conversation he learnt that these were a memento of the Basque country,
about which Miss Elvan talked with a very pretty enthusiasm. Will went
away, after all, in a dissatisfied mood. Girls were to him merely a
source of disquiet. "If she be not fair for me--" was his ordinary
thought; and he had never yet succeeded in persuading himself that any
girl, fair or not, was at all likely to conceive the idea of devoting
herself to his happiness. In this matter, an excessive modesty subdued
him. It had something to do with his holding so much apart from ge