, and strolled in the open air
before breakfast. There had been rain through the night; a grey mist
still clung about the topmost larches of Cam Bodvean, and the Eifel
summits were densely wrapped. But the sun and breeze of spring promised
to have their way; to drive and melt the clouds, to toss white wavelets
on a blue sea, to make the gorse shine in its glory, and all the hills
be glad.

A gardener was at work in front of the house; Harvey talked with him
about certain flowers he wished to grow this year. In the small
stable-yard a lad was burnishing harness; for him also the master had a
friendly word, before passing on to look at the little mare amid her
clean straw. In his rough suit of tweed and shapeless garden hat, with
brown face and cheery eye, Rolfe moved hither and thither as though
native to such a life. His figure had filled out; he was more robust,
and looked, indeed, younger than on the day when he bade farewell to
Mrs. Handover and her abominations.

At nine o'clock he entered the dining-room, where breakfast was ready,
though as yet no other person had come to table. The sun would not
touch this window for several hours yet, but a crackling fire made the
air pleasant, and brightened all within. Seats were placed for three.
An aroma of coffee invited to the meal, which was characterised by no
suggestion of asceticism. Nor did the equipment of the room differ
greatly from what is usual in middle-class houses. The clock on the
mantelpiece was flanked with bronzes; engravings and autotypes hung
about the walls; door and window had their appropriate curtaining; the
oak sideboard shone with requisite silver. Everything unpretentious;
but no essential of comfort, as commonly understood, seemed to be
lacking.

In a minute or two appeared Mrs. Frothingham; alert, lightsome, much
improved in health since the first year of her widowhood. She had been
visiting here for a fortnight, and tomorrow would return to her home in
the south. Movement, variety, intimate gossip, supported her under the
affliction which still seemed to be working for her moral good. Her
bounty (or restitution) had long ago ceased to be anonymous, but she
did not unduly pride herself upon the sacrifice of wealth; she was glad
to have it known among her acquaintances, because, in certain quarters,
the fact released her from constraint, and restored her to friendly
intercourse. For her needs and her pleasures a very modest income
proved quit