"There are very strange things in life--very. Now I should no more have expected to meet in Kensington Gardens an old friend--than--than--really --than anything!" "An old friend, Mrs. Gray!" "Why, of course; the lady to whom I spoke." "Miss O'Reilly!" I exclaimed; then immediately felt dismayed at my own imprudence. But Mrs. Gray was getting bold, and replied, very calmly-- "Yes, I believe her name is O'Reilly; but I do not see anything wonderful in that; as I believe O'Reilly is a very common Irish name." "And you know her, Mrs. Gray?" I said, eagerly. "I may safely say I have known her years. For it is now twenty years since I met her at an evening party; I had forgotten her name, but not her face, and being greatly pleased to see her again, I asked her to come and take tea with me to-morrow evening." "Did you meet her brother at that party, Ma'am?" I asked eagerly. "Has she got a brother, my dear?" calmly inquired Mrs. Gray. "Yes, Ma'am, the gentleman who was with her." "Ah, indeed! the artist we saw yesterday--peculiar! No, my dear, I cannot say I met him." I saw with some disappointment that Cornelius was not included in the invitation; but I tried to look to the morrow without ungrateful repining; it came, and brought Kate alone, but not the less welcome. I have often wondered at Mrs. Gray's motives for acting thus; but her character was an odd mixture of sincerity and craft, of daring and timidity. She was kind-hearted enough to like obliging me and woman enough to cherish a feminine pique against Mr. Thornton for not being more frank and explicit with her; besides her life was so dull that a little gentle excitement and mystery were not things to be rejected lightly; and then, as she was in independent circumstances, and had taken me more for society than for profit, she was naturally less apt to regard the consequences of her conduct. Kate now came to see me freely, and yet I was not happy. Her brother, who had seemed so pleased, so glad when he met me in the Gardens, came not. "Oh, Kate!" I said, very sadly, "he does not care for me after all." "Nonsense, child! I tell you he was miserable when he found that Mr. Thornton had taken you no one knew where; why, he got thin with hunting up and down for you; he had no peace himself and gave none to others. Whereas, on the day he met you, he came in looking as gay as a lark, and exclaiming the first thing, 'I have got her, Kate!'" "Yes, but he does not come." "Men are so. He is fond of you, and he neglects you, that is their way, child."