ortunate to meet you. I hope Mr. Heron is no worse for--is not
ill?"

"No," she said in her low, clear voice. "My father is quite well; he is
just as he usually is this morning."

"I am very glad," said Stafford. He stood close beside the horse and
looked up at her; and for the first time in his life he was trying to
keep the expression of admiration out of his eyes; the expression which
he knew most women welcomed, but which, somehow or other, he felt this
strange girl would resent. "I was afraid he would be upset. I am afraid
you were frightened last night--it was enough to alarm, to startle
anyone. What a splendid morning!" he went on, quickly, as if he did not
want to remind her of the affair. "What a libel it is to say that it is
always raining here! I've never seen so brilliant a sunshine or such
colours: don't wonder that the artists rave about the place and are
never tired of painting it."

She waited until he had finished, her eyes downcast, as if she knew why
he had turned from the subject, then she raised them and looked at him
with her direct gaze.

"I am glad I have met you," she said. "I wanted to thank you for your
kindness last night--"

"Oh, but--" Stafford tried to break in, but she went on slowly, as if
he had not spoken.

--"I was--frightened: it was sudden, so unexpected. My father had never
done it before--that I know of--and he looked"--her voice broke for a
moment--"so strange, so ghost-like. I thought at first that it was the
Heron ghost which, they say, haunts the dale, though I have never seen
it."

A faint smile curved her lips and shone in her eyes, and Stafford was
so fascinated by the sudden gleam of girlishness that he had to bend
and pat Bess, who was planting dusty impression on his trousers in her
frantic efforts to gain his attention.

"I did nothing; in fact, as I walked away I was fuming because I
couldn't help you--couldn't do more."

"You did help me," she said, gravely; then she looked across the lake
to Sir Stephen's "little place." "I was admiring that new house. Don't
you think it is very beautiful, rising so white and gracefully above
the lake?"

"Ye-es," said Stafford, "Rather--conspicuous, though, isn't it?"

She laughed suddenly, and Stafford asked, with surprise: "Why did you
laugh?"

"Oh, I was thinking of my father," she said, with a delicious
frankness; "he was quite angry about it this morning. It seems that it
is built on our land--or what was ours--