Lady Level's delight at seeing them seemed as unrestrained as a child's. Exiles from their native land can alone tell that to meet with home faces in a remote spot is grateful as the long-denied water to the traveller in the Eastern desert. And we are writing of days when to travel abroad was the exception, rather than the rule. "There is only one private sitting-room in the whole house, and that is mine, so you must perforce make it yours as well," cried Lady Level, as she laughingly led the way to it. "And oh! what a charming break it will be to my loneliness! Last night I cried till bedtime." "Is not Lord Level with you?" inquired Mr. Ravensworth. "Lord Level is in England. While they are getting Timms' room ready, will you come into mine?" she added to Mrs. Ravensworth. "How long have you been married?" was Lady Level's first question as they entered it. "Only last Tuesday week." "Are you happy?" "Oh yes." "I knew your husband long before you did," added Lady Level. "Did he ever tell you so? Did he ever tell you what good friends we were? Closer friends, I think, than he and his cousin Cecilia. He used to come to White Littleham Rectory, and we girls there made much of him." "Yes, he has often told me." Mrs. Ravensworth was arranging her hair at the glass, and Lady Level held the light for her and looked on. The description given of her by Blanche to her father was a very good one. A pale, gentle girl, with nice eyes, dark, inexpressively soft and attractive. "I shall like you very much," suddenly exclaimed Lady Level. "I think you are very pretty--I mean, you have the sort of face I like to look at." Praise that brought a blush to the cheeks of Mrs. Ravensworth. The landlady sent them in the best supper she could command at the hour; mutton chops, served German fashion, and soup, which Lady Level's man-servant, Sanders, who waited on them, persisted in calling the potash--and very watery potash it was, flavoured with cabbage. When the meal was over, and the cloth removed, they drew round the fire. "Do you ever see papa?" Lady Level inquired of Mr. Ravensworth. "Now and then. Not often. He has let his house again in Gloucester Place, and Mrs. Guy has gone back to the Channel Islands." "Oh yes, I know all that," replied Blanche. "The last time I saw Major Carlen he spoke of you--said that you and Lord Level were making a protracted stay abroad." "Protracted!" Blanche returned bitterly; "yes, it is protracted. I long to be back in England, with a longing that has now grown into a disease. You have heard of the _mal du pays_ that sometimes attacks the Swiss when they are away from their native land; I think that same malady has attacked me." "But why?" asked Mr. Ravensworth, looking at her.