ondled him. He seemed to understand her mood,
and pressed close against her gown when she stopped. They walked
together about the gardens, and presently picked up an exuberant
retriever, which bounded and wriggled and at once settled into a steady
trot beside them. Emily adored the flowers as she walked by their beds,
and at intervals stopped to bury her face in bunches of spicy things.
She was so happy that the joy in her hazel eyes was pathetic.

She was startled, as she turned into a rather narrow rose-walk, to see
Lord Walderhurst coming toward her. He looked exceedingly clean in his
fresh light knickerbocker suit, which was rather becoming to him. A
gardener was walking behind, evidently gathering roses for him, which he
put into a shallow basket. Emily Fox-Seton cast about for a suitable
remark to make, if he should chance to stop to speak to her. She
consoled herself with the thought that there were things she really
_wanted_ to say about the beauty of the gardens, and certain clumps of
heavenly-blue campanulas, which seemed made a feature of in the
herbaceous borders. It was so much nicer not to be obliged to invent
observations. But his lordship did not stop to speak to her. He was
interested in his roses (which, she heard afterward, were to be sent to
town to an invalid friend), and as she drew near, he turned aside to
speak to the gardener. As Emily was just passing him when he turned
again, and as the passage was narrow, he found himself unexpectedly
gazing into her face.

Being nearly the same height, they were so near each other that it was a
little awkward.

"I beg pardon," he said, stepping back a pace and lifting his straw hat.

But he did not say, "I beg pardon, Miss Fox-Seton," and Emily knew that
he had not recognised her again, and had not the remotest idea who she
was or where she came from.

She passed him with her agreeable, friendly smile, and there returned to
her mind Lady Maria's remarks of the night before.

"To think that if he married poor pretty Lady Agatha she will be
mistress of three places quite as beautiful as Mallowe, three lovely old
houses, three sets of gardens, with thousands of flowers to bloom every
year! How nice it would be for her! She is so lovely that it seems as if
he _must_ fall in love with her. Then, if she was Marchioness of
Walderhurst, she could do so much for her sisters."

After breakfast she spent her morning in doing a hundred things for Lady
Maria. She