And both caught the joy of the spring in the words, and the Squire, smiling, stooped and kissed his wife; and she knew then that she had permission to carry her daughter out of the way of immediate sorrow. As for the future, Mrs. Atheling never went into an enemy's country in search of trouble. She thought it time enough to meet misfortune when it came to her. Kate was not averse to the change. Her conversation with the Duchess naturally affected her feeling towards Annabel. She could not imagine her quite ignorant of it; and it was, therefore, a trial to have the girl intruding daily into her life. Yet self-respect forbade her to make any change in their relationship to each other. Annabel, indeed, appeared wishful to nullify all the Duchess had said by her behaviour to Cecil North. Never had she been so familiar and so affectionate towards him, and she evidently desired Mrs. Atheling and Kate to understand that she was sincerely in love, and had every intention of marrying for love. But yet she was unable to disguise her pleasure when she was suddenly told of their proposed return to the country. A vivid wave of crimson rushed over her face and throat; and though she said she "was sorry," there was an uncontrollable note of satisfaction in her voice. She was really sorry in one respect; but she had become afraid of the Squire. He asked such point-blank questions. His suspicions were wide awake and veering to the truth. He was another danger in her situation, and she felt Justine to be all she could manage. Mrs. Atheling and Kate being gone, her visits to the Vyner house could naturally cease; and, as the winter was nearly over, she could arrange some other place for her meetings with Cecil North. Indeed, he had already joined her in a few early morning gallops; and, besides which, she reflected, "Love always finds out a way." Cecil was a quite manageable factor. [Illustration:] About the middle of March, one fine spring evening, Mrs. Atheling and Kate came once more near to their own home. The road was a beautiful one, bordered with plantations of feathery firs on each side; and the pure resinous odour was to these two northern women sweeter than a rose garden. And, oh, what a home-like air the long, rambling old Manor House had, and how bright and comfortable were its low-ceiled rooms! When Kate went to her own chamber, a robin on a spray of sweet-briar was singing at her window. She took it for her welcome back to the happy place. To be sure, the polished oak floor with its strips of bright carpet, the little tent-bed with its white dimity curtains, and the low, latticed windows, full of rosemary pots and monthly roses, were but simple surroundings; yet Kate threw herself with joyful abandon into her white chair before the blazing logs, and thought, without regret, of the splendid rooms of the Vyner mansion, and the tumult of men and horses in the thousand-streeted city outside it.