Some way further along the road they came to the sharp turn known as Ayclough Bend. Here, a lane to the right led up the hill to the farm, the high road to the left pursuing its course to twenty-miles-off Bridgenorth. "This is our way," said Mr Thurston, turning as he spoke in the direction of the lane, but both the girls had come to a stand beside a large stone lying at the side of the road. "This is the Bride's stone," said Sydney, in an explanatory tone. "Ah, yes, to be sure. Poor bride," said Gerald, coming back again. "Who is the bride? Why do you call this her stone?" inquired Captain Chancellor of Eugenia. She gravely related the story. Even to this day it had a curious fascination for her. "It was on this stone he was thrown when the coach upset. And it is here, they say, she is still to be seen sometimes," she said with a slight shudder. "Is it not a sad story?" she added, looking up with such pity in her eyes, that Beauchamp half fancied there were tears not far off. He didn't feel inclined to laugh at her, he was in a rather unusual mood to-day. Still less, however, was he inclined that Gerald or Sydney should have the benefit of his rare fit of genuine sentimentality. So he answered carelessly-- "Very sad, if true, which I should feel inclined to doubt. I have heard the same story at other places. Besides, if it were true, pity would be wasted on the lady. No doubt she married again very speedily if she was so lovely and charming." Gerald hardly stayed to hear him finish the sentence. He walked on quickly, followed by Sydney, and both looked at each other as they heard Eugenia's voice answering her companion brightly and happily as usual. "She is bewitched," said Gerald, abruptly, and Sydney by her silence seemed to agree with him. "Just the sort of thing that would have put her out for the day, if Frank had said it to tease her." They had not seen the expression in Beauchamp's eyes which belied his careless words, giving her, even about this trifle, a feeling that his confidence, his deeper feelings, were reserved for her alone. "Yes," said Sydney, with a sigh. "But, Gerald, I have come to see that there is nothing to be done. I tried once or twice to speak to Eugenia, some time ago, but it was no use. It only risked my losing her confidence altogether. Besides, what could I say? I know nothing against Captain Chancellor. I cannot even say I suspect anything; and I by no means dislike him. As an ordinary acquaintance I should like him very much." "You disliked him at first," objected Gerald. "No, not exactly," said Sydney, thoughtfully. "I was only rather afraid of liking him too readily. I doubted him before I ever saw him, from what Eugenia told me of him; I doubted, I mean to say, his being the sort of person I should have chosen for her. But that sounds very presumptuous. Sisters don't marry to please each other."