One of these houses, at a considerable distance from the archbishop's palace, was remarkable for its beautiful gardens, and for its broad terrace, edging the river, and overhung by tall trees. A flint wall, with a lane on one side, and the grounds of another house on the other, surrounded these gardens and shut them out from the vulgar, leaving them only open to the view of those who passed upon the water, on which side it was not more than three feet high. To the river, there was a private stair for boats to land visitors; defended, however, from intrusion by an iron gate as high as the terrace-wall; and possessing a large bell, which, from time to time, gave notice of applications for admission. About five o'clock in the evening of a day towards the end of September, a wherry, rowed by a single man, and containing no freight but himself, glided close under the embankment of the terrace, it being then high water; and there the rower paused for a moment or two on his oars, looking into the grounds above, as if very much admiring their trim propriety. After that short pause he rowed on again, and his inquisitiveness passed unnoticed by any one, as the gardens were vacant. In about a quarter of an hour, however, the same boat and the same man re-appeared; but this time he did not pause, for there were three persons upon the terrace; a young lady of graceful and noble mien, walking a step in advance; an elderly, stately dame, talking to her at her shoulder; and a fair girl, with large bright eyes, and dark black hair, dressed in the simple, but lady-like apparel, which, in those days of splendid costume, generally denoted the waiting gentlewoman, coming a pace or two behind, with an air of sadness, and her look bent down upon the ground. The rower, as we have said, pulled on; and about ten minutes after he was gone, the young lady whom we have mentioned turned towards the house, saying, "I shall go in, madam. Dear Ida," she continued, "you can stay if you like; for you have been kept in all the morning and want air." "Not if I can help' you, dear Lady," replied Ida Mara, "or sing to you, or amuse you. The best air I can have is your own looks, when you are happy." "That cannot be now," replied the Lady Arabella; "but I am going to write to the King; so that I shall not want you for the next hour." The girl bent her head, and remained upon the terrace; and the two ladies returned through the trees to the house. Ida Mara took one or two turns, pausing from time to time to gaze upon the different boats, which, with sails or oars, as the wind favoured them, skimmed fast over the shining surface of the water. In a minute or two, the wherry we have mentioned cut across from the stairs at Westminster, and passed close under the terrace, the man who was in it raising his head as far as possible, and examining the fair Italian with apparently curious eyes.