lage, made no perceptible
impression on the cold. The two men walked briskly in the direction of
the park gate. Before they had quite reached it however, the door of the
cottage opposite was opened, and Stamboul, the Russian bloodhound,
bounded down the path, cleared the wicket gate in his vast stride, and
then turning suddenly crouched in the middle of the road to wait for his
master. But the dog instantly caught sight of the vicar, with whom he was
on very good terms, and trotted slowly up to him, thrusting his great
nose into his hand, and then proceeding to make acquaintance with John.
He seemed to approve of the stranger, for he gave a short sniff of
satisfaction and trotted back to the wicket of the cottage. At this
moment Mrs. Goddard and Nellie came out, followed by the squire arrayed
in his inevitable green stockings. There was however no rose in his coat.
Whether the greenhouses at the Hall had failed to produce any in the
bitter weather, or whether Mr. Juxon had transferred the rose from his
coat to the possession of Mrs. Goddard, is uncertain. The three came out
into the road where the vicar and John stood still to meet them.

"Mrs. Goddard," said the clergyman, "this is Mr. Short, of whom you have
heard--John, let me introduce you to Mr. Juxon."

John felt that he blushed violently as he took Mrs. Goddard's hand. He
would not have believed that he could feel so much embarrassed, and he
hated himself for betraying it. But nobody noticed his colour. The
weather was bright and cold, and even Mrs. Goddard's pale and delicate
skin had a rosy tinge.

"We were just going for a walk," she explained.

"And we were going to see you at the Hall," said the vicar to Mr. Juxon.

"Let us do both," said the latter. "Let us walk to the Hall and have
a cup of tea. We can look at the ice and see whether it will bear
to-morrow."

Everybody agreed to the proposal, and it so fell out that the squire and
the vicar went before while John and Mrs. Goddard followed and Nellie
walked between them, holding Stamboul by the collar, and talking to him
as she went. John looked at his companion, and saw with a strange
satisfaction that his first impression, the impression he had cherished
so long, had not been a mistaken one. Her deep violet eyes were still
sad, beautiful and dreamy. Her small nose was full of expression, and was
not reddened by the cold as noses are wont to be. Her rich brown hair
waved across her forehead as it did