"Mr. Newcombe was detained in town," she said, calmly; but Una could detect the faint quiver in her voice. "Poor old Jack," said Dalrymple, after a pause, "seems to be cut up about something lately. Do you remember how queer he was that night he came back from the country, Arkroyd?" Lady Bell looked up suddenly. "Let us go for a ramble. You may smoke, gentlemen," she added. "Now don't shake your heads as if you never did such a thing. I can see your cigar-case peeping out of your pocket, Lord Dalrymple." And linking her arm in Una's, she sauntered away. They strolled in silence for some minutes, until Una, happening to look up, saw that Lady Bell's face was quite pale, and that something suspiciously like tears were veiling the brightness of the dark eyes. "Lady Bell!" she murmured. "Hush!" said Lady Bell, gently. "Don't notice me, child! Oh, how sick I am of it all! What a long day it seems! How can they sit there laughing and chattering like a set of monkeys?" "What is the matter?" said Una, in her low, musical voice. "Nothing," said Lady Bell, softly; then she paused and tried to laugh. "Una, my sweet, innocent, I've got a complaint which you know nothing of; it is called the heartache. There is no cure for it, I am afraid; at least, not for mine. Tut! there, there! your great, grave eyes torture me; they seem to go to the bottom of my soul. Not a word more. Here they come!" And the next instant she turned round, all life and gayety. Una sauntered on, her heart beating wildly. Was Lady Bell's heartache produced by the absence of Jack Newcombe? Yes, that must be it! With a sigh she drew away still further from the rest, and seating herself on the trunk of a tree by the riverside, watched the silver stream as it flowed past and was lost in the setting sun. Suddenly she saw in the distance a white speck that looked like a bird, flitting up the middle of the stream. The speck grew larger; and she saw that it was a light boat putting toward the island. Gradually it came nearer and nearer, and she saw that it contained one man only, and that he was clad in white flannel. It was a light water-boat--a mere speck of white it looked now on the golden stream--and to Una, who had never seen an outrigger before, it seemed an almost impossible feat to sit in it. But the sculler managed it with the greatest ease, and with every stroke sent it flying forward. With regular rhythmical action he pulled on, and very soon she could see his great arms bared to the shoulders. She watched it absently for some minutes, but presently the rower turned his head, and something in the movement struck her and made her heart bound. Agitated and trembling she rose and stood staring down the stream.