pt waiting for ten minutes.

"It is very rude of you," she said; "but I suppose that you were so
taken up with the conversation of your friends that you forgot the
time. By the way, who are they? anybody you have told me about?"

In the pauses of selecting the jewellery, Arthur told her all he knew
about the Bellamys, and of their connection with the neighbourhood of
the Abbey House. The story caused Mildred to open her brown eyes and
look thoughtful. Just as they came out of the shop, who should they
run into but the Bellamys themselves, chaffering for Madeira work with
a woman in the street. Arthur stopped and spoke to them, and then
introduced Mrs. Carr, who, after a little conversation, asked them up
to lunch.

After this Mildred and Lady Bellamy met a good deal. The two women
interested each other.

One night, when the Bellamys had been about ten days in Madeira, the
conversation took a personal turn. Sir John and Arthur were sitting
over their wine (they were dining with Mrs. Carr), Agatha Terry was
fast asleep on a sofa, so that Lady Bellamy and Mildred, seated upon
lounging-chairs, by a table with a light on it, placed by an open
window, were practically alone.

"Oh, by the way, Lady Bellamy," said Mildred, after a pause, "I
believe that you are acquainted with the young lady to whom Mr.
Heigham is engaged?" She had meant to say, "to be married," but the
words stuck in her throat.

"Oh, yes, I know her well."

"I am so glad. I am quite curious to hear what she is like; one can
never put much faith in lovers' raptures, you know."

"Do you mean in person or in character?"

"Both."

"Well, Angela Caresfoot is as lovely a woman as ever I saw, with a
noble figure, well-set head, and magnificent eyes and hair."

Mildred turned a little pale and bit her lips.

"As to her character, I can hardly describe it. She lives in an
atmosphere of her own, an atmosphere that I cannot reach, or, at any
rate, cannot breathe. But if you can imagine a woman whose mind is
enriched with learning as profound as that of the first classical
scholars of the day, and tinged with an originality all her own; a
woman whose faith is as steady as that star, and whose love is deep as
the sea and as definite as its tides; who lives to higher ends than
those we strive for; whose whole life, indeed, gives one the idea that
it is the shadow--imperfect, perhaps, but still the shadow--of an
immortal light: then you will get some idea of