first glimpse
of a chimney; another--and the summit of a gable showed above the
trees. The sun, which had been hitherto obscured, now came out, and
suddenly--as if by the hand of magic--the whole scene was a brilliant
blaze of colour. He had arrived at the end of the avenue, where the
path forked; one branch turning sharply round in the direction of a
side entrance to the house, whilst the other led with a gentle
curvature to the front.

Facing the building was a broad expanse of velvety turf, relieved
occasionally, here and there, by such showy shrubs as the hydrangea,
rhododendron, or lilac; but more frequently, and at closer intervals,
by clumps of geraniums, or roses--roses of every variety. There was
nothing pretentious in the garden, any more than there was in the
adjoining edifice. Its unusually pleasing effect lay altogether in its
artistic arrangement; and one could hardly help imagining that the
whole scene had, in reality, been called into existence by the brush
of some eminent landscape painter.

The cottage itself was constructed of old-fashioned Dutch
shingles--broad and with rounded corners--and painted a dull grey; a
tint which, when contrasted with the vivid green of the tulip trees
that overshadowed the entrance to the house, and reared themselves
high above it on either side, afforded an artistic happiness perfectly
intoxicating to its present visitor. The architecture of the cottage
was--if not Early Tudor--something equally pleasing. Its roofs were
divided into many gables; its windows were diamond paned and
projecting, whilst oaken beams ran latitudinally and vertically over
its grey shingle front. Encompassing the whole base of the exterior
were masses of flowers--pinks, carnations, heliotrope, pansies,
poppies, lilies, wallflowers, roses and jasmines; and besides the
latter several other creepers had been planted beneath the walls, but
had not yet attained to any height.

Shiel Davenport, for it was he, could not resist the temptation of
peeping in at the windows; and he saw that the interior of the cottage
was artistry and simplicity itself. At the windows, curtains of heavy
white jaconet muslin, not too full, hung in sharp parallel plaits to
the floor--just to the floor. The walls were papered with French
papers of rare delicacy--to match the seasons; (spring, summer, autumn
and winter were all most effectively depicted), and the furniture
though light, was at the same time costly. And here