ing too pertinaciously.

A little consciously he lifted his hat and asked: "Can you direct me to
the Priory?"

"The Priory?" she repeated in a low voice, her eyes fixed more intently
upon him, and her hand tightening on the gate.

"Mr. Verschoyle's place. I was directed at the railway station, but do
not feel sure that----"

"Whom do you want to see there?" she put in abruptly--almost
ungraciously.

Nor was the tone assumed; this was not the girl to affect the brusquerie
of unconventionality any more than the suavity of conventionality--it
was rather that of one in deep anxiety, and unaccustomed to veil her
thoughts.

"Mr. Verschoyle," he replied.

"On--business?"--the expression of dread, or whatever it was, deepening
in her face, white now to the lips; as, on the impulse of the moment,
she pressed back the gate as though to bar the way.

"No," he murmured. To have brought such a look to such a face!

She still eyed him with the same unquiet scrutiny, as though debating
something in her mind; then hurriedly asked: "But why? Where do you come
from?"

He might very well have asked what interest his relations with
Verschoyle could have for her; but he felt that there was some grave
reason underlying her anxiety, and was not inclined to take offence.
Moreover, there was no necessity for mystery on his side; and,
therefore, he might as well reply openly and directly to her question.

"From Grayminster. My name is Meredith."

"Are you a friend of his? Mr. Verschoyle is my brother"; still a little
hesitatingly, and, as it were, on the defensive.

He raised his hat again. "We were at Wadham together, Miss Verschoyle,
and, chancing to be in this neighbourhood, I thought I would look him up
for half an hour's talk over old times."

The colour came into her cheeks and a smile to her beautiful lips,
although both faded too quickly. "I remember your name now, Mr.
Meredith. I have often heard my brother speak of you," moving aside for
him to pass through the gate as she added: "If you will come with me, I
will show you the way."

He bowed, passing quickly through to her side. His indecision had
entirely vanished now, and a visit to the Priory seemed the most
desirable thing in the world. To think of Verschoyle not mentioning that
he had a sister--and such a sister!

"I fear I must have seemed terribly rude when you first spoke to me, Mr.
Meredith," she said, looking up into his face with a smile, as they
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