Of course we were rejoiced, and said so. Just then the door opened, and Mrs. Doyne's visitor came in. He evidently had expected to find no one but her, and at first I think he could hardly make us out in the dark room, though Freda's gown made a radiance in her corner, as if the sun were looking in through green leaves. I thought him pleasant-looking at the first glance. He would naturally be bronzed, and a little brown was already stealing over the pallor of recent illness. He was freckled, and smiled pleasantly, showing a row of white teeth, as he was introduced to us. Then he went over to Freda's corner and sat down beside her, and in a few minutes they were talking quite like old friends. I watched them while I drank my tea. He was leaning forward looking at Freda as he talked. She listened with a slightly averted head, as was her way, and her quietly dreamy smile. Afterwards he went out into the garden, and Mrs. Doyne and I walked together while the other two somehow fell behind. The dear old lady talked on about her roses and her pet doves, and her dairy, and her dear Alick, while she was filling a little basket with strawberries for us to take to Aline. After a while we found a shady seat and sat down. "Did it strike you, my dear," asked the old lady suddenly, "that Mr. Hazeldine seemed quite taken with your sister?" "I should be surprised if he weren't," said I. "Do you know, Mrs. Doyne, I admire Freda so much? I think in that green frock she is exactly like a lily of the valley--don't you?" "It is very pretty of you to think so, dear Hilda, and she is indeed very fair and sweet." She sighed a little, and I guessed it was with a faint fear that her Alick might be too late to appreciate that sweetness. "He seems a good lad," she went on, "and my boy thinks a great deal of him. He has made a very fine position for himself for so young a man, and his father, Sir John Hazeldine, is a very rich man, a London banker, my dear, though of course he has other sons than this one." Now this didn't interest me much, for I couldn't look as far ahead as Mrs. Doyne. Any one with eyes in his head must admire Freda, but admiration and love are different things. And I didn't care a bit about Mr. Hazeldine's prospects. I was such a goose in those days that I believe the fact of poor Jim's prospects being so rosy rather diminished my interest in a possible romance. "That's pleasant for him," said I, standing up and opening my ragged parasol. "But now, dear Mrs. Doyne, I think we must find Freda, and be thinking of getting home." We found the pair calmly strolling up and down the avenue of chestnuts by the trout-stream, which we used to call the Lovers' Walk, and I thought Mr. Hazeldine looked as if we had come too soon.