ow little talent or
originality had come to the front, though all might be the better for
knowing how to use eyes and fingers.

On the whole her interest as well as her diligence did not flag; but a
sense of weariness and monotony would sometimes come after a recurrence
of well-known blunders of her pupils, and she missed the sense of going
home to refreshment and enjoyment which had once invigorated her. St.
Ambrose's Road had had its golden age, but the brightness had been
dimmed ever since that festival at Monks Horton. One after another of
the happy old society had dropped away. The vicar had received
promotion, and she only remained of the former intimates, excepting old
Miss Headworth, who was no longer a companion, but whom affection
forbade her to desert in feeble old age. Had her thoughts of the old
times conjured up a figure belonging to them? There was the
well-brushed hat, the natty silk umbrella, the perfect fit of garments,
the precise turn-out, nay, the curly lion-shaven poodle, with all his
fringes, leaping on her in recognition, and there was that slightly
French flourish of the hat, before--with a bounding heart--she met the
hand in an English grasp.

'Miss Nugent!'

'Mr. Dutton!'

'I thought I should meet you here!'

'When did you come?'

'Half an hour ago. I came down with George Greenleaf, left my things
at the Royal Hotel, and came on to look for you.'

'You will come and spend the evening with us?'

'If you are so good as to ask me. How is Miss Headworth?'

'Very feeble, very deaf; but she will be delighted to see you. There
is no fear of her not remembering you, though she was quite lost when
Mrs. Egremont came in yesterday.'

'Mrs. Egremont!' he repeated with a little start.

'Mrs. Mark. Ah! we have got used to the name--the Honourable Mrs.
Egremont, as the community insist on calling her. What a sunny
creature she is!'

'And Miss Egremont, what do you hear of her?'

'She writes long letters, poor child. I hope she is fairly happy. Are
you come home for good, or is this only a visit?'

'I have no intention of returning. I have been winding up my good
cousin's affairs at Melbourne.'

Mary's heart bounded again with a sense of joy, comfort, and
protection; but she did not long keep Mr. Dutton to herself, for every
third person they met gladly greeted him, and they were long in getting
to St. Ambrose's Road, now dominated by a tall and beautiful spire,
according to t