To think that they were away!--that the two ladies spoken of did not meet! One of them at least would deem it a chance missed, a singular fact, in the years to come. CHAPTER VII. Going Fishing. A chilly evening. The hot days of August have passed away; this is October, and the night is turning out raw and misty. But in Mrs. Chester's house warmth and light reign, at least in the inhabited rooms of it. In one of them, a moderate-sized, comfortable apartment, whose windows opened to the ground, the large fire had burned down to a red glow, after rendering the atmosphere unpleasantly warm; and a lady, seated in a lounging chair, had pushed it quite back, so that she was in the shade both from the light and the fire. A look of perplexity, of care, sat on her face, young and lovely though it was; even in her hands, as they lay listless on her lap, there was an air of abandonment. But that the room was growing dusk and dim in the autumn twilight, that sadness might not have been suffered to show itself, although she was alone. It was Clara Lake. Her thoughts were buried in a painful retrospect--the retrospect of only the two past months. They had brought grief to her: as the summer did to the unhappy girl, told of in that beautiful ballad Anna Chester sometimes sung, "The Banks of Allan Water." Had any one warned Clara Lake the previous August, when she came to Mrs. Chester's for a two days' visit, that the sojourn would not be one of days but months, she had simply disbelieved it. Even when the term was extended to a proposed fortnight--a fortnight in all--she would have laughed at the idea of staying longer. But she had stayed. She was here still. Nevertheless, things had so turned out; all easily and naturally, as it seemed, to look back upon. As it seemed to her now, sitting in her chair, and tracing the course of past events. The alteration in their house at Katterley, as proposed by Mr. Lake, and which was to be completed in ten days or a fortnight, was begun in due course--the throwing out of the dining-room by means of a bay window. He and his wife went over one day to see the progress of the work. It was then suggested--whether by the builder, by her husband, by herself, or by all three jointly, Clara could not to this hour recollect--that, to make a complete job of it, the window in the chamber above should also be thrown out. The additional expense would be comparatively little, the improvement great; and it was agreed to on the spot. Orders were also given for the drawing-room and their own chamber to be painted, repapered, and decorated. "Won't it take a long time?" Clara suddenly asked. "About a month, if they work well; certainly not more," replied Mr. Lake.