Lady Renshaw took a survey of the young man through her glasses. Feeling safe in his disguise, Richard had now discarded some portions of the clerical-looking costume he had worn yesterday, and was attired this morning more after the style of an ordinary tourist. ‘You had better stroll gently along in the same direction,’ remarked her ladyship. ‘Poor young man, he looks very lonely!’ ‘But I can’t leave you alone, aunt.’ ‘Never mind about me. Besides, I see that dear vicar and Dr M‘Murdo coming this way.’ Lady Renshaw turned to greet Miss Gaisford and the two gentlemen, who were still a little distance off. ‘Here they come. To which of my two admirers shall I devote myself to-day?’ she simpered. ‘Why not endeavour to play one off against the other, and so excite a little jealousy? It is so nice to make the men jealous. Poor dear Sir Timothy never would be jealous; but then he was so very stupid!’ Miss Gaisford was the first to speak. ‘We were just wondering what had become of you, Lady Renshaw.’ ‘I lingered here to drink in this fairy scene. It is indeed too, too exquisitely beautiful.’ ‘If they would only turn on a little more water at the top of the cliff it would be an improvement,’ answered Miss Pen.—‘Septimus, you might inquire whether they can’t arrange it specially for us to-day.’ ‘My dear!’ protested the vicar with mild-eyed amazement. ‘Maybe, like myself,’ remarked the doctor, ‘your ladyship is a worshipper of beautiful scenery?’ ‘O yes. I dote on it—I revel in it. After I lost poor dear Sir Timothy, I went to Switzerland, in the hope of being able to distract my mind by travel. Those darling Alps, I shall always feel grateful to them!’ ‘What did the Alps do for you, Lady Renshaw?’ queried Miss Pen with the utmost gravity. ‘They gave me back my peace of mind; they poured consolation into my lacerated heart.’ ‘Very kind of them—very kind indeed,’ answered Miss Pen drily. Lady Renshaw threw a quick, suspicious glance at her. ‘What a very strange person!’ she murmured. The vicar’s sister was a puzzle to her. It could not be that she was covertly making fun of her, Lady Renshaw! No; the idea was too preposterous. Dr Mac had not gone about for fifty years with his eyes shut. He had discovered that many persons, both male and female, who plume themselves on their knowledge of the world and their shrewdness in dealing with the common affairs of life, are yet as susceptible to flattery, even of the most fulsome kind, and just as liable to be led away by it into the regions of foolishness, as their far less sophisticated fellow-mortals. What if this woman, with all her worldly-mindedness and calculating selfishness, were one of those individuals who may be dexterously led by the nose and persuaded to dance to any tune so long as their ears are judiciously tickled? A peculiar gleam came into the doctor’s eyes as these thoughts passed through his mind. He cleared his voice and turned to her ladyship.