which she little dreamed.

One afternoon, some two or three weeks before the day on which her
grandfather was to come so unexpectedly upon her, she was sitting there
half asleep when the unusual sound of footsteps and voices in the field
below her startled her into complete wakefulness.

Though she was close to the hedge that divided the fields from the woods,
she was so well screened from observation, not only by the hedge but by a
clump of intervening young trees, that she was able to rise to her feet
and look at the speakers as they passed without fear of detection.

For strangers to be trespassing in her grandfather's fields was an event
rare enough to excite her curiosity, and she was eager to know who the
intrepid people might be.

Somewhat to her surprise, she recognised in one of them the clergyman of
the church five miles distant, to which they always drove every Sunday
morning. It was not their own parish church, for with the rector of that
Mr. Anstruther had quarrelled many years ago, not for any particular
reason except that he was the clergyman of the parish and therefore to be
kept at a distance.

He was walking with a middle-aged little man of kindly aspect in whom
Margaret recognised Dr. Knowles, the doctor who had lately bought old Dr.
Carter's practice, and who had advised Miss Bidwell to go abroad for her
eyesight.

Though nothing was further from Margaret's mind than any intention of
eaves-dropping, she could not help overhearing every word that was spoken
as they passed the spot where she was standing. Mr. Summers, the
clergyman, was speaking.

"Yes, poor girl. It is a great shame. Her grandfather keeps her cooped up
in that gloomy old place and never lets her see a soul. She has passed a
lonely, unloved youth, for I am sure her grandfather has never shown her
any affection, and I am equally sure that her dry stick of a governess
did not, and, poor child, she has never been allowed to associate with
any one else. She has never been allowed to have a friend or to go to a
party or a dance in her life. And she must be nearly eighteen now. It
really is a shame, for youth only comes once."

"What a queer life! What a queer life for a girl to lead!" said the
little doctor in jerky tones. "And is she contented with it?"

"Yes, I think so; but, then, she has no idea what she is missing."

With that reply the two voices passed out of hearing, leaving Margaret
standing motionless under the tree. O