phine found in her work-basket.

It was agreed, then, that the next day Leam and her father should dine
at the Hill.

"Only ourselves," Edgar said, wanting the excuse of her "being the
only lady" to devote himself to Leam. It was strange that he should
be so anxious to see her nearer, and in company with his sisters and
mother; for after all, why should he? What was she to him, either near
or afar off, alone or in the inner circle of his family?

But when the next day came Mr. Dundas appeared alone. Leam had been
taken with a fit of shyness, pride--who shall say?--and refused to
accept her share of the invitation. Her father made the stereotyped
excuse of "headache;" but headaches occur too opportunely to be
always real, and Leam's to-night was set down to the fancy side of
the account, and not believed in by the hearers any more than by the
bearer.

Edgar raged against her in his heart, and decided that she was not
worth a second thought, while the ladies said in an undertone from
each to each, "How rude!" Maria adding, "How like Leam!" the chain
of condemnation receiving no break till it came to Josephine, whose
patient soul refrained from wrath, and gave as her link, "Poor Leam!
perhaps she is shy or has really a headache."

In spite of his decision that she was not worth a second thought,
the impression which Leam had made on Edgar deepened with his
disappointment, and he became restless and unpleasant in his temper,
casting about for means whereby he might see her again. He cast
about in vain. This fit of shyness, pride, reluctance--who knows
what?--continued with Leam for many days after this. If she went out
at all, she went where she knew she should not be met; and if Edgar
called at Ford House, she was not to be found. She mainly devoted
herself to Fina and some books lent her by Alick, and kept the house
with strange persistency. Perhaps this was because the weather was
bad, for Leam, who could bear wind and frost and noonday sun, could
not bear wet. When it rained she shut herself up in her own room, and
pitied herself for the ungenial skies as she had pitied herself for
some other things before now.

Sitting thus reading one miserably dark, cold, misty day, the child
Fina came in to her with her lessons, which she repeated well. They
were very small and insignificant little lessons, for Leam had a
fellow-feeling for the troubles of ignorance, and laid but a light
hand on the frothy mind inside that c