It was Kaituna who was speaking--Kaituna arrayed in a cool white dress, standing on the terrace in the early morning looking over the peaceful scene spread out before her. The birds were singing joyously in the trees, the cool dew was lying on the grass, and this young girl, reared in a far-distant country, was now viewing with dreamy eyes the pleasant land of England. Beside her was Mrs. Belswin, in a simple dress of black serge, with all her splendid hair smoothed firmly back, and a pensive look in her fierce eyes--eyes which had now lost in a great measure their savage expression, and which filled with soft maternal love when they rested on the straight slim form of her daughter. In the sordid lodging in Bloomsbury, in a gaudy dress, with her real nature unrestrained in any way, she had looked like a savage; but now, with all her feelings well under control, her sombre dress, and her demure look, she appeared quite civilized. The savage was there, however, all the same, and should occasion arise to excite her in any way, a keen observer could easily see that the thin veneer of civilization would vanish, and the true instinct of the uncivilized being would flash forth, with a force all the greater for suppression. Her voice also had altered, as it was no longer strident or harsh in its tones, and in replying to Kaituna's remark anent Tennyson, it was as soft and sweet as that of a Quakeress. "It is very beautiful in a mild way," she said quietly; "but I'm afraid I should grow weary of this everlasting tranquillity." "Oh, Mrs. Belswin, I'm sure that truer happiness can be found here than in the world." "I dare say you are right, Kaituna; but the sentiment sounds curious, coming from one so young." "It's the fault of my colonial training," replied Kaituna, with a smile. "Life in New Zealand is very quiet, you know. When I came home with papa I was quite bewildered by the noise and turmoil of London--every one rushing here and there--restless crowds in the streets, chattering women in the houses--no rest, no pause, no quiet. Oh, it was terrible." "And down here?" "Down here it is charming. One can dream dreams in this delicious old place, and take life easily, not at the railroad speed of London folk." "You are too young for a hermit, Kaituna." "Oh, but I'm not a hermit, I assure you. I'm fond of gaiety. I adore balls and garden-parties. I'm never tired of riding and tennis-playing, but I can get all those in the country, and can live slowly, which I like. The hurry-skurry of town life would kill me." "You like England, then?"