the
dry, gravel path, the surface of which still sensibly held the warmth
of the sun, while Camp squatted soberly on his haunches beside her.
But, at first, only worrying thoughts responded to her call.--It was
not quite kind, surely, of Julius to have left home just now. It was a
little inconsiderate of him. If she dwelt on the thought of that,
clearly it would vex her--so it must be banished. Reynolds, the
housekeeper, had really been very perverse about the turning of the two
larger china-closets into extra dressing-rooms for the week of the
wedding, and Clara showed an inclination to back her up in opposition.
Of course the maids would give in--they always did, and that without
any subsequent attempt at small reprisals. Still the thought of that,
too, was annoying and must be banished. At dinner she had received a
singular letter from Honoria St. Quentin. It contained what appeared to
Katherine as rather over-urgent protestations of affection and offers
of service, if at any future time she--the writer--could be of use. The
letter was charming in its slight extravagance. But it struck Katherine
as incomprehensibly penitent in tone--the letter of one who has not
treated a friend quite loyally and is hot with anxiety to atone. It was
dated this morning too, and must have been posted at some surprisingly
early hour to have thus reached Brockhurst by the day mail. Lady
Calmady did not quite relish the missive, somehow, notwithstanding its
affection. It lacked the perfection of personal dignity which had
pleased her heretofore in Honoria St. Quentin. She felt vaguely
disappointed. And it followed that this thought, therefore, must go
along with the rest. For she refused to be disquieted. She would compel
herself to be at peace.

So, putting these small sources of discomfort from her, as unworthy
both of her better understanding and of this fair hour and fair place,
Katherine yielded herself wholly to the influences of her surroundings.
The dew was rising--promise of another hot, clear day to-morrow--and
along with it rose a fragrance of wild thyme from the grass slopes
immediately below. That fragrance mingled with the richer scents of
jasmine, full-cupped, July roses, scarlet, trumpet-flowered
honeysuckle, tall lilies, and great wealth of heavy-headed, clove
carnations, veiling the red walls or set in the trim borders of the
gardens behind. A strangely belated nightingale still sang in the big,
Portugal laurel beside t