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Rh "Perhaps for that very reason he shuns her name. Never but once did I hear him allude to his daughter; nor can I wonder at that, if it be true, as I have been told by people who seem to know very little of the particulars, that, while yet scarcely out of the nursery, she fled from his house with some low adventurer—a Mr. Hammond—died abroad the first year of that unhappy marriage."

"Yes, that is the correct outline of the story; and as you guess, it explains why Mr. Darrell avoids mention of one whom he associates with his daughter's name, though, if you desire a theme dear to Lady Montfort, you can select none that more interests her grateful heart than praise of the man who saved her mother from penury, and secured to herself the accomplishments and instruction which have been her chief solace."

"Chief solace! Was she not happy with Lord Montfort? What sort of man was he?"

"I owe to Lord Montfort the living I hold, and I can remember the good qualities alone of a benefactor. If Lady Montfort was not happy with him, it is just to both to say that she never complained. But there is much in Lady Montfort's character which the Marquis apparently failed to appreciate; at all events, they had little in common, and what was called Lady Montfort's haughtiness was perhaps but the dignity with which a woman of grand nature checks the pity that would debase her—the admiration that would suily—guards her own beauty, and protects her husband's name. Here we are. Will you stay for a few minutes in the boat while I go to prepare Lady Montfort for your visit?"

George leaped ashore, and Lionel remained under the covert of mighty willows that dipped their leaves into the wave. Looking through the green interstices of the foliage, he saw at the far end of the lawn, on a curving bank by which the glittering tide shot oblique, a simple arbor—an arbor like that from which he had looked upon summer stars five years ago—not so densely covered with the honey-suckle; still the honey-suckle, recently trained there, was fast creeping up the sides; and through the trellis of the wood-work and the leaves of the flowering shrub he just caught a glimpse of some form within—the white robe of a female form in a slow gentle movement—tending, perhaps, the flowers that wreathed the arbor. Now it was still, now it stirred again; now it was suddenly lost to view. Had the inmate left the arbor? Was the inmate Lady Montfort? George Morley's step had not passed in that direction.