It was in an effort to escape this haunting fear that she moved quickly down to the river's brink. There was a sloping bank at the foot of the lawn; the stream ran just beneath; the grass growing almost down to the water's edge--there was nothing whatever to prevent your stepping from the bank into the river if you felt disposed. She stood on the slope to take in new aspects of what seemed to her to be the ever-changing scene. How nice some of the boats looked--and how pretty were some of their occupants--and what pretty clothes they wore! Dorothy was wearing the frock and the hat which Mr Frazer had brought with him in the parcel from Newcaster; yesterday they had seemed to her to be in the height of fashion--and compared to the garments which she discarded for them they were. Now she felt how out of harmony they were with her surroundings. The frock was of dark blue serge, the hat of dark grey felt; both good in their way--she did not doubt that they had cost more money than any two garments of hers had ever done before. But then the men in the boats were all in white flannels, and the girls and women in gossamer fabrics of the airiest kind, with hats which were radiant visions. They were in accord with the spirit of the scene. The longer Dorothy stood to watch the stronger her conviction grew that she was not. As far as appearance went she was nothing but a blot on the landscape. Ashamed though she was of such a feeling it was there, and would not away. She knew, none better, how indebted she was to the generosity of a stranger for being able to look as well as she did. She called herself a little pig for wishing that her clothes went better with that fairylike garden, those radiant skies, the silver stream; were more in the vein of poetry which marked the costume of the girl in the boat with the two men, an old and a young one, which was crossing from the opposite bank towards the lawn on which she stood. She was a study in the palest of pale blues; Dorothy thought what a charming bit of colour she made, in the smart boat; in which the two oarsmen, of such contrasting ages, were evidently so much at home. What a good-looking pair they were, in their different styles! The fact became plainer as the boat drew near; the one with the silvery hair and moustache, the other with the light brown curls, and smooth cheeks on which was the glow of youth and health. It had just dawned on Dorothy that the boat was being steered, by the vision in blue, towards the spot on which she was standing; when, on a sudden, the young lady in question, rising in her seat, began to exclaim aloud, in a state of unmistakable agitation: "Why, if it isn't Dorothy Gilbert! Dorothy Gilbert, where have you come from?" The white-haired gentleman seemed to find in the steerswoman's conduct cause of complaint. "If," he observed, in quite audible tones, "you do want to have us over, would you mind letting us have a little notice of what to expect?"