o, and with one of those abrupt changes of topic which were
common to the restless play of her secret thoughts.

"You have father and mother still living, Mr. Chillingly?"

"Thank Heaven, yes."

"Which do you love the best?"

"That is scarcely a fair question. I love my mother very much; but my
father and I understand each other better than--"

"I see: it is so difficult to be understood. No one understands me."

"I think I do."

Lily shook her head with an energetic movement of dissent.

"At least as well as a man can understand a young lady."

"What sort of young lady is Miss Cecilia Travers?"

"Cecilia Travers! When and how did you ever hear that such a person
existed?"

"That big London man whom they call Sir Thomas mentioned her name the
day we dined at Braefieldville."

"I remember,--as having been at the Court ball."

"He said she was very handsome."

"So she is."

"Is she a poem too?"

"No; that never struck me."

"Mr. Emlyn, I suppose, would call her perfectly brought up,--well
educated. He would not raise his eyebrows at her as he does at me,--poor
me, Cinderella!"

"Ah, Miss Mordaunt, you need not envy her. Again let me say that you
could very soon educate yourself to the level of any young ladies who
adorn the Court balls."

"Ay; but then I should not be a poem," said Lily, with a shy, arch
side-glance at his face.

They were now on the bridge, and before Kenelm could answer Lily resumed
quickly, "You need not come any farther; it is out of your way."

"I cannot be so disdainfully dismissed, Miss Mordaunt; I insist on
seeing you to at least your garden gate."

Lily made no objection and again spoke,--

"What sort of country do you live in when at home; is it like this?"

"Not so pretty; the features are larger, more hill and dale and
woodland: yet there is one feature in our grounds which reminds me a
little of this landscape,--a light stream, somewhat wider, indeed,
than your brooklet; but here and there the banks are so like those by
Cromwell Lodge that I sometimes start and fancy myself at home. I have
a strange love for rivulets and all running waters, and in my foot
wanderings I find myself magnetically attracted towards them."

Lily listened with interest, and after a short pause said, with a
half-suppressed sigh, "Your home is much finer than any place here, even
than Braefieldville, is it not? Mrs. Braefield says your father is very
rich."

"I doubt if he is richer