Sylvia, going her pilgrimage to Miss Spencer's new grave, was aware of a tall young figure, which had something familiar about it, swinging along towards her. Presently she recognised Anthony Trevithick. "Miss Sylvia," he said, "I am so glad I met with you. I want to see Pamela." "Pamela!" with oddly upraised eyebrows. "Yes--Pamela. I have stayed away as long as I could. I promised Lord Glengall I would give her time." "Oh! that is how it is, is it?" "Yes; didn't you know?" "I guessed, of course, but Pam is not the old Pam. She has been as solemn as an owl, and as secretive, ever since.... When was it?... I really think it began about the time of your going away. She used to be the best of good company." "What is this for, Miss Sylvia?" said the young man, touching her black frock. "Ah! You do not know. Miss Spencer died a month ago." "I am sorry," he said, with a sympathy which at once made Sylvia his friend. "Does Pam know you are coming?" she asked. "No. I was afraid to announce myself. Perhaps she will show me the door." "Perhaps she won't, Sir Anthony. She's fond of you, you see." "Oh, Miss Sylvia!" cried Anthony Trevithick, flushing delightedly through his tan. "Oh, yes! she's fond of you. I'm not going to talk about her secrets, but I know how it is. I knew all along. That is why I was so vexed with her--when---- Never mind. You want to see Pamela, then? Well, just wait for me a minute outside this gate. I will come back with you then, and find Pamela for you." "You are awfully good." "Perhaps I'm glad to get rid of Pam. She's prettier than I am, though some people don't think so. Perhaps I'm afraid of her stealing my admirers." "I believe it is only your goodness to me." "And to Pam. She's not the same Pam she was a year ago. If you make her like her old self, I shall forgive you even that you left us forlorn and unsquired at that famous festivity for which you should have returned." "Oh! Miss Sylvia, I shan't believe that." She did not try Anthony Trevithick's patience by keeping him waiting long at the churchyard gate. She was gone only a minute or two before she returned, her basket empty of its flowers, and her face, which had gained so much in character and sweetness during the year, a little overshadowed. When they reached Carrickmoyle, she brought Anthony Trevithick through the sunny hall where the door stood, as ever, hospitably open, and into the big drawing-room. "Stay here till I find Pam," she said. She went upstairs two steps at a time in the boyish way he remembered. He listened with a smile on his face till the sound of the footsteps died away. Then he began to walk up and down nervously. Pam sat in the window of her own little room with her chin in her hands, gazing over the summer-dark landscape, her air listless, and her eyes apathetic. "It is lonely, Sylvia," she said, scarcely turning her head as her sister entered.