And all the time there were burning hot tears in her eyes; and as the leaves of Saint-Simon passed idly through her fingers, the tears blotted out the meadows and the flowers, and blurred the figure of a young girl who was slowly mounting the long slope of road that led from the village of Brent towards the seat on which Julie was sitting. * * * * * Gradually the figure approached. The mist cleared from Julie's eyes. Suddenly she found herself giving a close and passionate attention to the girl upon the road. Her form was slight and small; under her shady hat there was a gleam of fair hair arranged in smooth, shining masses about her neck and temples. As she approached Julie she raised her eyes absently, and Julie saw a face of singular and delicate beauty, marred, however, by the suggestion of physical fragility, even sickliness, which is carried with it. One might have thought it a face blanched by a tropical climate, and for the moment touched into faint color by the keen Alpine air. The eyes, indeed, were full of life; they were no sooner seen but they defined and enforced a personality. Eager, intent, a little fretful, they expressed a nervous energy out of all proportion to their owner's slender physique. In this, other bodily signs concurred. As she perceived Julie on the bench, for instance, the girl's slight, habitual frown sharply deepened; she looked at the stranger with keen observation, both glance and gesture betraying a quick and restless sensibility. As for Julie, she half rose as the girl neared her. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted; she had the air of one about to speak. The girl looked at her in a little surprise and passed on. She carried a book under her arm, into which were thrust a few just-opened letters. She had scarcely passed the bench when an envelope fell out of the book and lay unnoticed on the road. Julie drew a long breath. She picked up the envelope. It lay in her hand, and the name she had expected to see was written upon it. For a moment she hesitated. Then she ran after the owner of the letter. "You dropped this on the road." The girl turned hastily. "Thank you very much. I am sorry to have given you the trouble--" Then she paused, arrested evidently by the manner in which Julie stood regarding her. "Did--did you wish to speak to me?" she said, uncertainly. "You are Miss Moffatt?" "Yes. That is my name. But, excuse me. I am afraid I don't remember you." The words were spoken with a charming sweetness and timidity. "I am Mrs. Delafield." The girl started violently. "Are you? I--I beg your pardon!" She stood in a flushed bewilderment, staring at the lady who had addressed her, a troubled consciousness possessing itself of her face and manner more and more plainly with every moment.