One August evening, when it was too sultry to stay indoors, Nelly wandered out into the lanes alone. She had told Morgan that she was going to drive into the nearest town on a shopping expedition, and should not return till dusk. But one of her ponies had fallen lame, and she had given up the plan.

On she went, saying a kind word or two to the villagers as she passed their cottages. They all loved Nelly well. Her bright face came amongst them like a sunbeam; even the smallest children had a smile for her as she went by. She was so young and healthy and beautiful that many an admiring glance followed her tall figure. She belonged to Huntsdean, and Huntsdean was proud of her.

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On she went through the village.—Page 191.

She made straight for the downs, tripping up the green slopes, and startling the browsing sheep. She gave a friendly nod to the little shepherd-boy who lay idly stretched upon the grass. And then, as she had done often enough before, she mounted the gravelled terrace, and sat down on a rustic bench behind the hedge of laurels.

From this spot she could not see Laurel House at all. The high wall of evergreens completely shut in the view of the residence and its garden. The gravelled terrace was divided from the grounds by this thick hedge, and was only approached from the house by one long straight path of turf. The path terminated in an arch, formed by the carefully-kept shrubs, and giving access to the platform; and any one walking on the downs must go up to the middle of the terrace and look through this archway before he could get a glimpse of the house.

Nelly knew that Miss Hazleburn liked to walk up and down the turfy path when the[157] day’s duties were done. She meant to rest herself for a few minutes before entering the garden.

The bench was at the very end of the platform. She loved the seat because it commanded an extensive view of the surrounding country. Beyond the Huntsdean downs she could see other hills lying far away, softly outlined against the summer evening sky. And nearer lay the dearer old meadows and homesteads and the long tracts of woodland,—all familiar and beloved scenes to the girl who had been born and bred among them. The air was very still; even here it was but a faint breath of wind that fanned her flushed cheeks; but the coolness on these highlands was delightful after the closeness of the vale. She sat and enjoyed it in silence.

Quite suddenly the sound of voices broke the stillness. The speakers were hidden from Nelly’s gaze, for the tones came from the other side of the laurel hedge. Eve Hazleburn’s accents, clear and musical, could be recognised in a moment.

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“I am going away next week,” she said, “going back to Warwickshire, Mr. Foster, I wrote to Mr. Lindley, the good Vicar of C——, and he has found a place for me. I am to be companion to an invalid lady whose house is close to the street where your father and mother live. They will be glad to have me near them again.”

She spoke rapidly, and a little louder than usual. Nelly, overwhelmed with astonishment, sat still, without giving a thought to her position as an eavesdropper.

“I have kept away from you—I have tried not to think of you!” cried Morgan Foster, in irrepressible anguish. “God does not help me in this matter. I have prayed, worked, struggled, yet I get no relief. What shall I do, Eve—what shall I do?”

Eve Hazleburn and Morgan Foster.—Page 194.

“You must endure to the end,” she answered, with a little sob. [159]“God will make it easier by-and-by. Oh, I was so sorry to come here, Mr. Foster; but I could not help it! We will never meet again, you and I. Yet I am glad that I know Miss Channell. I will go and tell the old people what a sweet bright girl she is; and they will soon learn to love her. It will all come right in the end.”

“Ah, if I could believe that!” said the curate. “But I can’t. It is madness to think that a wrong path can have a right ending. Sometimes I am persuaded it would be best to tell her everything.”

“If you did,” cried Eve, sternly, “you would break her heart. And don’t think—pray don’t think, Mr. Foster, that I would build my house on the ruins of another woman’s happiness! When I am gone,” and the proud voice trembled, “you will learn to submit to circumstances. We are not likely to cross each other’s paths again; you will be a rich man——”