Uncle and nephew seemed to enjoy their trip very much, for the one year was prolonged into three, and Sir Leonard would not have returned then but that his health failed. A few months after they came back Sir Leonard died and his nephew succeeded him. Owing to his uncle’s illness and death the young heir saw nothing for some time of his neighbors. When the mourning was over and Aldenmere was once more thrown open to visitors, he began to look around him. It was some years since he had seen his little child-wife, and he wondered often what she was like. “Is she charming, as she was--as teasing, as loving, as piquant, half woman, half fairy? I must go and see.” So one May morning Sir Ronald rode off to Leeholme Park. It will be one of the last dreams of his life, the sight he saw that morning. He was ushered into the drawing-room at Leeholme where Lord and Lady Lorriston welcomed him warmly. After some very pleasant conversation with them he inquired after his old playfellows. “Though,” he added, with a smile, “I should not apply such a title to Lady Hermione.” “I am afraid she had her own way too much in those days,” said Lady Lorriston. “She has it a thousand times more now,” said the earl. “Do not believe anything you hear to the contrary.” “I am sure you will like to see Hermione, Sir Ronald,” said Lady Lorriston. “You knew Miss Severn, too; she is spending the day with us. Will you come with me? They are in the garden.” “Nothing,” said Sir Ronald, “would give me more pleasure.” So they passed out of the long drawing-room windows and went through the beautiful grove of flowering chestnuts that led to the garden. The sun was shining so brightly and the birds singing, a thousand flowers were in bloom, a lark sang overhead. Sir Ronald’s heart beat high with happiness and expectation. Suddenly he heard a clear, sweet voice say: “You are mistaken, Clarice; I will see what the marguerite says--He loves me, he loves me not. There, you see, he loves me not; if he did, it would be utterly useless.” Another voice interposed: “You are always willful, Hermione; I tell you Kenelm Eyrle does.” But here Lady Lorriston interposed. “This is not fair,” she said, “we can hear them, they cannot see us, and we shall hear all their secrets.” Sir Ronald looked round and saw a thicket of roses, behind which was a summer-house of green trellis work. The sun shone full upon it and upon the loveliest picture that poet or painter ever dreamed. Two young girls sat there; one was bending forward with an anxious expression on her face; the other, with a smile, held the ruined marguerite in her hand.