o made no effort to question him: in fact, he did
not see the tutor again until the day when he came to restore a fragment
of the letter which Brian had carelessly dropped in the road before he
read it. During this interview he betrayed no suspicion, and Brian
comforted himself with the thought that Hugo had, at any rate, not read
the sheet that he returned to him.

A dog-cart was sent for him and his luggage on the day of his arrival.
He had a five miles' drive before he reached Strathleckie, where he
received a tumultuous welcome from the boys, a smiling one from Mrs.
Heron and Kitty, a hearty shake of the hands from Mr. Heron. But where
was Elizabeth? He did not dare to ask.

She was out, he learnt afterwards: she had driven over to the town to
lunch with the Colquhouns. For a moment he did think this strange; then
he put aside the thought and remembered it no more.

There was a long afternoon to be dragged through: then there was a
school-room tea, nominally at six, really not until nearly seven,
according to the lax and unpunctual fashion of the Heron family. Mr.
Stretton had heard that there were to be guests at dinner, and, keeping
up his character as a shy man, declined to be present. He was sitting in
a great arm-chair by the cheerful, little fire, which was very
acceptable even on an August evening: the clock on the mantelpiece had
just chimed a quarter-past seven, and he was beginning to wonder where
the boys could possibly be, when the door opened and Elizabeth came in.
He rose to his feet.

"They told me that you had come," she said, extending her hand to him
with quiet friendliness. "I hope you had a pleasant journey, Mr.
Stretton."

"Very pleasant, thank you."

He could not say more: he was engaged in devouring with his eyes every
feature of her fair face, and thinking in his heart that he had
underrated the power of her beauty. In the fortnight that he had been
away from her he had pictured her to himself as not half so fair. She
had taken off her out-door things, and was dressed in a very plain,
brown gown, which fitted closely to her figure. At her throat she wore a
little bunch of sweet autumn violets, with one little green leaf,
fastened into her dress by a gold brooch. It was the very ostentation of
simplicity, yet, with that noble carriage of her head and shoulders, and
those massive coils of golden-brown hair, nobody could have failed to
remark the distinction of her appearance, nor to reco