With a smile Margery took the stool, and, placing it in a shady corner, sat down and began to read. The courtyard stretched along a quadrangle leading to the stables, and, looking up now and then from her book, Margery caught glimpses of the castle horses lazily switching their tails in their comfortable boxes. The pony carriage was driven in while she waited, and she watched with much interest the small, sturdy ponies being unharnessed and led away. It was a quaint, picturesque spot--the low-roofed stables, the larger coach-house, a portion of the gray-stone castle jutting out in the distance, with a background of branches and faintly moving leaves. Margery shut her book and let her eyes wander to the clear blue sky seen in patches through the trees. She felt cool in her little nook, and enjoyed the rest. The groom had discarded his smart livery, and, in company with another lad, was busily employed in cleaning the pony carriage, the hissing sound with which he accompanied his movements not sounding unmusical from a distance; and Margery found herself smiling at his exertions and the confidence that had succeeded his bashfulness. Suddenly, while she was watching them, she saw the groom and his companion draw themselves up and salute some one; and then the next moment a figure came round the corner--a figure in white tennis costume, with a white silk shirt and large flapping hat. Margery felt her cheeks grow warm, then they as quickly colored. Another figure stood beside the tall one of the man, a dainty, delicate, lovely form in a dress of ethereal blue, holding a large sun-shade of the same color above her beautiful head. Unconsciously Margery felt her heart sink. Never had she seen so fair a vision before; and the sight of those two figures, so well matched and so close together, brought a strange vague pain to her, the nature of which she could not guess. She dropped her eyes to her book again, and shrunk back into her corner, hoping to escape notice. She was too far away to hear what was said, and she began to breathe freely again after a few minutes, when the faint sound of a musical voice was borne on the air and the tones of a deep, clear voice she knew well came nearer and nearer. She pulled her sunbonnet well over her eyes and bent still lower over her book as the voices drew closer. “If you are ill after this, Cousin Vane,” she heard Stuart say, “I shall never forgive myself. The heat is terrific, you know. Are you quite sure you can manage it?” “Quite,” answered the woman’s voice. “I want to see this poor doggie; besides, you tell me it is just as far back again as round this way.” “Just as far. Well, here we are! Poor Sir Charles, I hope the old fellow is better.”