ride?"

"My mother is dead," replied the girl, quite simply, looking away.

A soft murmur of pain escaped Dyce's lips; he leaned forward, uttered
gently a "Pray forgive me!" and was silent. The vicar interposed with a
harmless remark about the flight of years.

CHAPTER II

In the moments when Dyce Lashmar was neither aware of being observed
nor consciously occupied with the pressing problems of his own
existence, his face expressed a natural amiability, inclining to
pensiveness. The features were in no way remarkable; they missed the
vigour of his father's type without attaining the regularity which had
given his mother a claim to good looks. Such a visage falls to the lot
of numberless men born to keep themselves alive and to propagate their
insignificance. But Dyce was not insignificant. As soon as his
countenance lighted with animation, it revealed a character rich in
various possibility, a vital force which, by its bright indefiniteness,
made some appeal to the imagination. Often he had the air of a lyric
enthusiast; often, that of a profound thinker; not seldom there came
into his eyes a glint of stern energy which seemed a challenge to the
world. Therewithal, nothing perceptibly histrionic; look or speak as he
might, the young man exhaled an atmosphere of sincerity, and persuaded
others because he seemed so thoroughly to have convinced himself.

He did not give the impression of high breeding. His Oxford voice, his
easy self-possession, satisfied the social standard, but left a defect
to the finer sense. Dyce had not the self-oblivion of entire courtesy;
it seemed probable that he would often err in tact; a certain
awkwardness marred his personal bearing, which aimed at the modern
ideal of flowing unconstraint.

Sipping the cup of tea which his mother had handed to him, Dyce talked
at large. Nothing, he declared, was equal to the delight of leaving
town just at this moment of the year, when hedge and meadow were
donning their brightest garments and the sky gleamed with its purest
blue. He spoke in the tone of rapturous enjoyment, and yet one might
have felt a doubt whether his sensibility was as keen as he professed
or imagined; all the time, he appeared to be thinking of something
else. Most of his remarks were addressed to Miss Bride, and with that
manner of intimate friendliness which he alone of the family used
towards their visitor. He inquired about the events of her life, and
manifested a str