uch as to meet those
calm and gentle eyes. She came up to me as we were leaving the
dining-room, and with her sweet voice asked me if I would
drive with her. I gave a hasty assent, although I dreaded
beyond expression to find myself alone with her, and I was
much relieved when my uncle volunteered to accompany us.

It was a fine October afternoon, and as we were driving out of
the gates of the park, Mr. Middleton turned to Alice and asked
her if she knew the drive by Shirley Common, and back by the
Woods of Bridman.

"No," she said; "I have often walked through Bridman Woods;
but I do not know the drive you mention."

"Then we will take it to-day. Drive to Shirley Common, stop
when you come to Euston Gate, and come back through Bridman
Woods and home by the village."

There seemed in truth to be some fatality pursuing me. I could
not take a common drive without some fresh cause for anxiety;
and as we proceeded in the appointed direction, I thought of
the day when I had so much annoyed Henry by persisting in
visiting Bridman Cottage. As we drove along the terrace where
I had seen Alice for the first time, I saw her eyes fixed on
the broken fountain, and her lips moved as if she was
repeating something to herself. She suddenly turned to my
uncle, and asked him if he would put her down at the corner of
the terrace and wait for her a few minutes, while she went to
look at the house where she had once lived.

"I want to see Bridman Cottage myself," answered my uncle. "I
have had the offer of a tenant, and shall be glad to go over
it."

He desired the coachman to drive there. As we passed the inn,
I saw Henry's horse standing in the yard. I instantly turned
Mr. Middleton's attention to an old oak on the other side of
the road, and this circumstance escaped unobserved. When we
reached the cottage, the door was opened by an old woman who
had had the care of it since Mrs. Tracy had given it up. She
threw open the shutters, and the slanting rays of the evening
sun shone, through the casement on the dusty brick floor. When
we followed her into the back parlour, she opened the door
into the little garden, the neat and gay appearance of which
contrasted with the dirty and forlorn aspect of the cottage. A
spade and a rake were lying on the grass-plot in front of it.
Mr. Middleton inquired of the old woman how she managed to
keep the garden in so good a state, and who she got to work in
it.

"Why, Sir, if you had come so