"Oh, of course," assented Mrs. Carradyne, who never resented anything. "We shall be good friends, I trust," said Eliza, with a beaming smile, as her hand lay in Mr. Grame's when he was leaving. "Indeed I hope so," he answered. "Why not?" III Summer lay upon the land. The landscape stretched out before Leet Hall was fair to look upon. A fine expanse of wood and dale, of trees in their luxuriant beauty; of emerald-green plains, of meandering streams, of patches of growing corn already putting on its golden hue, and of the golden sunlight, soon to set and gladden other worlds, that shone from the deep-blue sky. Birds sang in their leafy shelters, bees were drowsily humming as they gathered the last of the day's honey, and butterflies flitted from flower to flower with a good-night kiss. At one of the windows stood, in her haughty beauty, Eliza Monk. Not, surely, of the lovely scene before her was she thinking, or her face might have worn a more pleasing expression. Rather did she seem to gaze, and with displeasure, at two or three people who were walking in the distance: Lucy Carradyne side by side with the clergyman, and Miss Kate Dancox pulling at his coat-tails. "Shameful flirt!" The acidity of the tone was so pronounced that Mrs. Carradyne, seated near and busy at her netting, lifted her head in surprise. "Why, Eliza, what's the matter? Who is a flirt?" "Lucy," curtly replied Eliza, pointing with her finger. "Nonsense," said Mrs. Carradyne, after glancing outwards. "Why does she persistently lay herself out to attract that man?" was the passionate rejoinder. "Be silent, Eliza. How can you conjure up so unjust a charge? Lucy is not capable of _laying herself out_ to attract anyone. It lies but in your imagination." "Day after day, when she is out with Kate, you may see him join her--allured to her side." "The 'allurer' is Kate, then. I am surprised at you, Eliza: you might be talking of a servant-maid. Kate has taken a liking for Mr. Grame, and she runs after him at all times and seasons." "She ought to be stopped, then." "Stopped! Will you undertake to do it? Could her mother be stopped in anything she pleased to do? And the child has the same rebellious will." "I say that Robert Grame's attraction is Lucy." "It may be so," acknowledged Mrs. Carradyne. "But the attraction must lie in Lucy herself; not in anything she does. Some suspicion of the sort has, at times, crossed me." She looked at them again as she spoke. They were sauntering onwards slowly; Mr. Grame bending towards Lucy, and talking earnestly. Kate, dancing about, pulling at his arm or his coat, appeared to get but little attention. Mrs. Carradyne quietly went on with her work. And that composed manner, combined with her last sentence, brought gall and wormwood to Eliza Monk.