“I am her ladyship’s hired companion,” said Artress, explainingly. “My husband left me very poor, you know, Rufus, and I have been in dear Lady Wynde’s employ for some three years. I beg you not to recognize me as a relative, nor to mention the fact to any one. I have my family pride, you know, Rufus, and it is hard to be obliged to earn one’s own living when one has not been brought up to it.” Her reasons for concealment of the relationship existing between them seemed to Rufus no reasons at all, but he could not gainsay her wishes, and muttered that he would obey her. “Miss Wynde has gone out for a solitary stroll in the park,” observed Lady Wynde, as Mr. Black’s eyes wandered about the room. “I sent her out for the fresh air. She is not looking well, I regret to say. Mr. Rufus, if you will be kind enough to go down the wide park avenue, you cannot fail to find her. I beg you will introduce yourself to her, and bring her back to the house.” Rufus bowed, and stepping lightly out of the open window, moved leisurely toward the park. “There is nothing like an informal meeting,” said Lady Wynde, looking after the young man. “I planned to have the meeting occur in this way, so that neither should be embarrassed by the presence of a third party.” “I should have preferred to keep my eye upon Rufus,” remarked Mr. Black uneasily. “Did you give the letter to the young lady?” “Yes, and she received it exactly as I had expected she would. She is not at all the style of girl I looked for, Craven, and it is fortunate for our plans that she cared so much for her father.” While the conspirators were thus conversing, Rufus crossed the lawn and entered the park by a small gate. The wide avenue, a fine carriage drive, was readily found, and Rufus walked for some distance upon it, keeping a vigilant look-out for Miss Wynde. He was beginning to meditate upon a return to the house without the young lady, when a flutter of white garments among the dusky shadows of a side path caught his gaze. He plunged into the path without hesitation, and presently overtook the wearer of the garments, who was of course Miss Wynde. Hearing his swift approach, she halted and turned her face toward him. Rufus also halted, strangely embarrassed under her brave full glance. She had laid aside her mourning garments, and wore rose-colored ribbons and a profusion of frills and puffs and lace, in which she looked very fair and dainty and sweet. Her wine-brown eyes were all aglow, but her cheeks were pale, and her face was very grave, even to sadness. “I beg your pardon,” said Rufus awkwardly, raising his hat. “I am looking for Miss Wynde.” “I am Miss Wynde,” said Neva, with gentle courtesy. The young man’s embarrassment was not lessened by this announcement. “Lady Wynde sent me to look for you,” he declared. “I--I am Rufus Black!”