e any letters for me this morning, mother?" Paul asked.

"Only one for you, I think," Mrs. de Vaux answered from across the
tea-tray. "I believe you will find it in the library. Shall I send for
it?"

Paul shook his head. "It will keep," he answered lightly. "I can get
it on my way upstairs. Have we anything left to tell, Lady May?"

"I think not," Lady May replied, from the depths of an easy chair
drawn up to the fire. "Altogether it has been a glorious day, and such
a scent! I don't know when I have enjoyed anything so much."

"Nor I!" Paul answered heartily. "The going was superb, and that
second fox took us over a grand stretch of country. Really, if it
hadn't been for the walls here and there, we might have been in
Leicestershire! May I have some more tea, mother?"

Mrs. de Vaux stretched out her hand for his cup, and smiled gently
at their enthusiasm. She had been a hunting woman all her life; and,
though she seldom even drove to a meet now, she liked to have her son
come in to afternoon tea with her, and talk over the run. Of late,
too, he had seemed so pale and listless that she had been getting a
little anxious. She had begun to fear that he must be out of health,
or that the monotony of Vaux Abbey was wearying him, and that he would
be leaving her again soon. But to-day she had watched him ride up the
avenue, with Lady May, and it seemed to her that there was a change in
his bearing--a change for the better; and, looking at him now, she
was sure of it. A faint glow was in his cheeks, and his eyes were
brighter. His manner, too, to Lady May pleased her more. He had ridden
home with her; from their conversation, they seemed to have been
together almost all day; and there seemed to be a spirit of _bon
comeradie_ between the two, as they talked over their doings, which
certainly pointed to a good understanding. Altogether Mrs. de Vaux was
pleased and hopeful.

And, indeed, she had reason to be, for his long day in the open
country with Lady May had been like a strong, sweet tonic to Paul. For
the first time since his return to Vaux Abbey he had felt that a
time might come when he would be able to escape altogether from those
lingering, bitter-sweet memories which were all that remained to
him now of Adrea. On the bare, windy moor, with the glow of physical
exercise and excitement coursing through his veins, and Lady May's
pleasant voice in his ears, that little scene in the rose-lit chamber
seemed for a mom