At that moment I heard her voice calling to the servant from the garden. An idea struck me. I pushed open the gate and entered the fields. Through the gate of her own garden I could see her. She was raking a bed of geraniums. Her fair face was shadowed by a hat, broad-brimmed and high-crowned; inelegant it would have looked on many a woman; but the most fastidious taste would have been ravished by its becoming elegance on her. The skirt of her dress, pinned up, disclosed a foot matchless in its turn and shape. What grace was in the movement of her arms! how delicate the outline of her inclined form! A long curl of gold had slipped from the blue ribbon that bound her hair and reposed like a sunbeam on her back. I stood watching her with all my soul in my gaze. A lark rose shrilling from the fields, and soared, pouring its throat in a strain chastened by the nimble air. She drew herself erect, and protecting her eyes, sought the bird in the blue. Her full and shapely form, her black and luminous eyes, shaded by her hand of snow, her yellow hair, her looped skirt, her firm small feet, made, as she stood among the flowers, such a picture of colour, beauty, and sunshine as I must never hope to see again. I drew to the gate. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Fraser," I said gently. She started, and seeing me, stared without speaking. "I hope I have not alarmed you," I said, observing the startled expression of her eyes to brighten with a sudden angry light: "I was attracted by the sound of your voice, and would not miss this chance of seeing you." She let fall the rake and came to the gate. "How long have you been there?" she asked. "Some minutes," I replied. "Watching! watching! Mr. Thorburn, I am sorry you ever took Elmore Court. Before you came, my privacy here was as sacred as though this garden had been cloisters." "Have I violated it?" "Of course you have. Have you not been watching me?" "I must offer you no apology. If I desire to win your approbation, I must not cloud or varnish my meaning." "It would not be worth while." "So I will admit that I came here not only with the intention of seeing, but of speaking to you. Now is my crime very grave?" "Are you beginning to feel dull?" she asked, eyeing me with embarrassing earnestness. "Are your beginning to grow weary of books and thoughts, and to discover that the most tiresome and indiscreet companion a man can choose is himself? If so, why do you not return to London? You must have the means to purchase the distractions which are called pleasures." "Indeed"--I began. "Or," she went on with odd imperturbability, "if you can't conveniently leave Elmore Court, there are, I believe, people here whom you might easily get to know. Why me, Mr. Thorburn? why _me_?" she exclaimed, with a little stamp of her foot. "Who are the people, Mrs. Fraser?"