e knew almost as much
about Miss Chinfeather and Park Hill as I knew myself. But she never
seemed to grow weary. We were sitting close together, and after a time I
felt her arm steal gently round my waist, pressing me closer still; and
so, with my head nestling against her shoulder, I talked on, heedless of
the time. O happy afternoon!

It was broken by a summons for Sister Agnes from Lady Chillington.
"To-morrow, if the weather hold fine, we will go to Charke Forest and
gather blackberries," said Sister Agnes as she gave me a parting kiss.

That night I went early to bed, and never woke till daybreak.

CHAPTER IV.

SCARSDALE WEIR.

I was up betimes next morning, long before Sister Agnes could possibly
be ready to take me to the forest. So I took my sewing into the garden,
and found a pleasant sunny nook, where I sat and worked till breakfast
time. The meal was scarcely over when Sister Agnes sent for me. It made
my heart leap with pleasure to see how her beautiful, melancholy face
lighted up at my approach. Why should she feel such an interest in one
whom she had never seen till a few hours ago? The question was one I
could not answer; I could only recognise the fact and be thankful.

The morning was delicious: sunny, without being oppressive; while in the
shade there was a faint touch of austerity like the first breath of
coming winter. A walk of two miles brought us to the skirts of the
forest, and in five minutes after quitting the high road we might have
been a hundred miles away from any habitation, so utterly lost and
buried from the outer world did we seem to be. Already the forest paths
were half hidden by fallen leaves, which rustled pleasantly under our
feet. By-and-by we came to a pretty opening in the wood, where some
charitable soul had erected a rude rustic seat that was more than half
covered with the initials of idle wayfarers. Here Sister Agnes sat down
to rest. She had brought a volume of poems with her, and while she read
I wandered about, never going very far away, feasting on the purple
blackberries, finding here and there a late-ripened cluster of nuts,
trying to find out a nest or two among the thinned foliage, and enjoying
myself in a quiet way much to my heart's content.

I don't think Sister Agnes read much that morning. Her gaze was oftener
away from her book than on it. After a time she came and joined me in
gathering nuts and blackberries. She seemed brighter and happier than