her expression of surprise.

'You didn't know I was here, Milly?'

'No, indeed; I had no idea of seeing you.'

'I wonder your father did not tell you of my visit. I came over this
morning for a fortnight's holiday. I've been working a little harder
than usual lately, and my uncle is good enough to say I have earned
a rest.'

'I wonder you don't go abroad for a change.'

'I don't care about a change. I had much rather come to Thornleigh.'

He looked at her very earnestly as he said this. I had been sure of
it that afternoon when we all three sat in the summer-house at
Albury Lodge, but I could see that Milly herself had no idea of the
truth.

'Well, Milly, what do you think of your new mamma?' he asked
presently.

'I had rather not tell you yet.'

'Humph! that hardly sounds favourable to the lady. She seems to me a
very charming person; but she is not my stepmother, and, of course,
that makes a difference. Your father is intensely devoted.'

Mr. Darrell came into the room a few minutes after this, and his
wife followed him almost immediately. Milly placed herself next her
father, and contrived to absorb his attention, not quite to the
satisfaction of the elder lady, I fancied. Those bright gray eyes
flashed upon my darling with a brief look of anger, which changed in
the next moment to quiet watchfulness.

Mrs. Darrell stood by one of the tables, idly turning over some
books and papers, and finding me seated near her, began to talk to
me presently in a very gracious manner, asking me how I liked
Thornleigh, and a few other questions of a stereotyped kind; but
even while she talked those watchful eyes were always turned towards
the window where the father and daughter stood side by side. Mr.
Stormont came over to her while she was talking to me, and joined in
the conversation; in the midst of which a grave gray-haired old
butler came to announce dinner.

Mr. Stormont offered his arm to the lady of the house, while Mr.
Darrell gave one arm to me and the other to his daughter; and we
went down a long passage, at the end of which was the dining-room, a
noble old room, with dark oak panelling and a great many pictures by
the old masters, which were, no doubt, as valuable as they were
dingy. We dined at an oval table, prettily decorated with flowers
and with some very curious old silver.

There was a good deal of talk at dinner, in which I could take very
little part. Mr. and Mrs. Darrell talked to Julian St