ard rested thus in the quiet sunshine, he lost count of
time. High-noon came and passed, finding and leaving him in absorbed
contemplation of his own thought. At last a barking of dogs, and the
sound of wheels away on the north side of the house, broke up the
silence. Then a faint echo of voices, a boy's laughter in the great
hall below. Then footsteps, which he took to be Lady Calmady's, coming
lightly up the grand staircase. At the stair-head those footsteps
paused for a little space, as though in indecision whither to turn. And
Richard, pushed by an impulse of considerateness somewhat, it must be
owned, new to him, called:--

"Mother, is that you? Do you want me? I'm here."

Whereat the footsteps came forward, in at the open door and through the
soft glory of the all-pervading sunshine, with an effect of gentle
urgency and haste. Katherine's gray, silk pelisse was unfastened,
showing the grey, silk gown, its floating ribbons, pretty frills and
flounces, beneath. Every detail of her dress was very fresh and very
finished, a demure daintiness in it, from the topmost, gray plume and
upstanding, velvet bow of her bonnet to the pretty shoes upon her feet.
Along with a lace handkerchief and her church books, she carried a
bunch of long-stalked violets. Her face was delicately flushed, a great
surprise, touching upon anxiety, tempering the quick pleasure of her
expression.

"My dearest," she said, "this is as delightful as it is unexpected.
What brings you here?"

And Richard smiled at her without reserve, no longer as though putting
a force upon himself or of set purpose, but naturally, spontaneously,
as one who entertains pleasant thoughts. He took her hand and kissed it
with a certain courtliness and reverent fervour.

"I came to look for something here," he said, "which I have looked for
at many times and in very various places, yet never somehow managed to
find."

But Katherine, at once tenderly charmed and rendered yet more anxious
by a quality in his manner and his speech unfamiliar to her, the
purport of which she failed at once to gauge, answered him literally.

"My dearest, why didn't you tell me? I would have looked for it before
I went to church, and saved you the trouble of the journey from the
gallery here."

"Oh! the journey wasn't bad for me, I rather enjoyed it," Dickie said.
"And then to tell you the truth, you've spent the better part of your
dear life in looking for that same something which I