le myself to the idea. After all, the studio
is there, and as the weeks go by I shall lose the sense of desolation
which is now associated with the place, and which hangs like lead upon
the wings of my spirit.

Yet what cause for gratitude is mine! Though I have lost one true
friend another is here to comfort and cheer me with never-failing
insight and sympathy. How I enjoy these long evenings in the library,
the quiet talks in the firelight, the hour which follows the lighting
of the lamp, when I read aloud from the squire's favourite authors or
the learned quarterlies; and best of all, the comments and discussions
which enable me to plumb the depths of his mind and make me marvel at
the extent of his knowledge. He likes me to sit on a stool at his feet
as I did, ages ago, at Zermatt, resting my arm or book upon his knee
and within easy reach of his caressing hand. Whatever I may have lost
by coming to Windyridge I have certainly found affection, and I am
woman enough to value it above all my losses.

So far, Mr. Derwent has come down each week-end and has remained at the
Hall over the Sunday. For some reason which he does not explain the
squire seems rather amused with him just now, and indulges occasionally
in a mild form of banter which leaves the younger man quite unruffled.
He asks him how he can possibly tear himself away so often from the
attractions and duties of the metropolis; and I cannot help thinking
that he suspects the existence of an attractive force there. I wonder
if the Cynic has told him anything of Rose. For myself, I am not
surprised that he comes to Broadbeck for the week-ends, because the
habit is ingrained in him, and bachelors of his age do not readily
abandon old customs.

We had a very interesting evening on Saturday. The vicar is away on a
stone-hunt of some kind, so his wife came to dinner, and gave spice to
the conversation, as she invariably does. I am always delighted when
she forms one of the company that includes the Cynic, for she is
refreshingly blunt and frank with him, and he does not get all his own
way. And at the same time he seems to enjoy drawing her out--I suppose
he would say "pulling her leg," if she were not a lady.

On this particular occasion she attacked him the moment we were
comfortably settled in the library, and for a long time the battle was
a mere duel of wits. She was extremely scornful because he had chosen
to remain a bachelor, and he defended