She did not speak hurriedly, she left time for Sylvester's confused murmurs of reply between her sentences, but she had walked on and turned out of sight before Miss Riddell had time to come up to them. "The hand of fate!" she exclaimed. "It is months since she was here, and now only for an hour or two." "I'll find Lucian," stammered Sylvester, turning into the garden, where Lucian came quickly to meet him. "I was told they were away," he said abruptly. "So they are. She came down on business. She--she--" "Don't talk about her," said Lucian, sternly. "There's the Rector, and Miss Riddell with him." He came up to them, shook hands cordially, presented his little offerings of Indian curios, and after a very short visit, took his leave, and went away by himself. "Unlucky!" exclaimed Miss Riddell. "I wish it had not occurred." "But, Aunt Meg, are they coming down here?" said Sylvester, hurriedly. "No, they are to be in London for the season, Amethyst is to be presented. I suppose their affairs are looking up. They have been abroad, you know, for some time, and visiting-about; but Amethyst was in town last year for a very short time, with their cousin, Lady Molyneux, at the end of the season. You heard that? She was only there long enough to show that she would make a sensation. R, the new artist, asked to paint her, the picture is to be in the Academy this year. She will have every chance now. She looks well, and has not lost her sweet manner, but her girlishness has all gone, and she is more the grand lady than her mother." "I--I hardly remember what a beauty she was," said Sylvester, rather nervously. "And that fellow, Fowler, he married the heiress, didn't he?" "Yes. They live in London. Haven't you ever met them at Loseby? The marriage turned out very well. There is something very engaging about Amethyst, and she spoke nicely of her sister Una, who is very delicate, she tells me. But, dear me, it was a bad business for Lucian. I don't know when he will settle down. His mother longs for him to marry and live at Toppings." "He had much better see the world first," said Sylvester. "One doesn't quite see the end of it for him," said Mr Riddell, thoughtfully. "But, Syl, I thought I was to see the _magnum opus_. I like to know what you young men are doing." Sylvester recalled himself with a start, to what had been an hour before an important ordeal to him. Now, part of the poem seemed to have come to life, and the picture faded before the original.