His encounter with Effie took place the next morning, on the lawn below the terrace, where he found her, in the early sunshine, knocking about golf balls with her brother. Almost at once, and with infinite relief, he saw that the resemblance of which Madame de Chantelle boasted was mainly external. Even that discovery was slightly distasteful, though Darrow was forced to own that Fraser Leath’s straight-featured fairness had lent itself to the production of a peculiarly finished image of childish purity. But it was evident that other elements had also gone to the making of Effie, and that another spirit sat in her eyes. Her serious handshake, her “pretty” greeting, were worthy of the Leath tradition, and he guessed her to be more malleable than Owen, more subject to the influences of Givre; but the shout with which she returned to her romp had in it the note of her mother’s emancipation. He had begged a holiday for her, and when Mrs. Leath appeared he and she and the little girl went off for a ramble. Anna wished her daughter to have time to make friends with Darrow before learning in what relation he was to stand to her; and the three roamed the woods and fields till the distant chime of the stable-clock made them turn back for luncheon. Effie, who was attended by a shaggy terrier, had picked up two or three subordinate dogs at the stable; and as she trotted on ahead with her yapping escort, Anna hung back to throw a look at Darrow. “Yes,” he answered it, “she’s exquisite...Oh, I see what I’m asking of you! But she’ll be quite happy here, won’t she? And you must remember it won’t be for long...” Anna sighed her acquiescence. “Oh, she’ll be happy here. It’s her nature to be happy. She’ll apply herself to it, conscientiously, as she does to her lessons, and to what she calls ‘being good’...In a way, you see, that’s just what worries me. Her idea of ‘being good’ is to please the person she’s with--she puts her whole dear little mind on it! And so, if ever she’s with the wrong person----” “But surely there’s no danger of that just now? Madame de Chantelle tells me that you’ve at last put your hand on a perfect governess----” Anna, without answering, glanced away from him toward her daughter. “It’s lucky, at any rate,” Darrow continued, “that Madame de Chantelle thinks her so.” “Oh, I think very highly of her too.” “Highly enough to feel quite satisfied to leave her with Effie?” “Yes. She’s just the person for Effie. Only, of course, one never knows...She’s young, and she might take it into her head to leave us...” After a pause she added: “I’m naturally anxious to know what you think of her.”