"I'll venture then," said the stranger, taking his hat and umbrella. "Perhaps you will be good enough to direct the road to me." John Bent took him out at the front door, and pointed out to him the way over the fields--which were far pleasanter and somewhat nearer than the road way: and Mr. North was soon at the gate of Greylands' Rest. Mrs. Castlemaine was seated under a shady clump of trees, doing some wool work. He raised his hat and bowed to her as he passed, but continued his way to the door. Miles opened it and asked his pleasure. "I am told that Madame Guise lives here. May I be permitted to see her?" "Yes, sir," replied the man, admitting him to the hall. "What name?" "Mr. George North. I have not my cards with me." "Mr. George North!" repeated Mrs. Castlemaine to herself, for she had been near enough to hear distinctly the conversation in the stillness of the summer's day. "What an exceedingly handsome young man! Quite a Saxon face. I wonder who he is!" Miles conducted Mr. George North to the red parlour, where Madame Guise was sitting with Ethel. "A gentleman to see you, ma'am," was his mode of introduction: "Mr. George North." "Mr. ---- who!" cried Madame, her manner hurried and startled. "Mr. George North," repeated Miles; and ushered the gentleman in. She turned her back upon the door, striving for courage and calmness in the one brief moment of preparation that she might dare to snatch. But that Ethel's attention was given to the stranger, she had not failed to see the agitation. Madame's pocket-handkerchief was clutched almost through in her nervous hand. "How do you do, Madame Guise?" She turned round then, meeting him in the middle of the room. Her face was white as death as she put out her hand to him. His own manner was unembarrassed, but his countenance at the moment looked strangely grave. "Being in the neighbourhood I have ventured to call upon you, Madame Guise. I hope you have been well." "Quite well, thank you," she said in a low tone, pointing to a chair, and sitting down herself. "I am so much surprised to see you." "No doubt you are. How is the little girl?" "She is at school with some good ladies, and she is quite happy there," replied Madame Guise, speaking rather more freely. "I thought you were in Italy, Mr. North." "I left Italy some weeks ago. Since then I have been wandering onwards, from place to place, sketching this, sketching that, in my usual rather vagabond fashion, and have at length turned up in England." The laughing light was coming back to his eyes again: he momentarily turned them on Ethel as he spoke. Madame Guise seemed to consider she might be under an obligation to introduce him. "Mr. George North, my dear. Miss Ethel Reene, sir; one of my pupils."