When we first set out that morning I think that George, from the summit of his eighteen years, had been inclined to look down upon me as a little school miss, whom he might patronize in a kindly sort of way, but whose conversation could not possibly interest a man of his sense and knowledge of the world. But whether it arose from that "old-fashioned" quality of which Major Strickland had made mention, which caused me to seem so much older than my years; or whether it arose from the genuine interest I showed in all he had to say; certain it is that long before we got back to Rose Cottage we were talking as equals in years and understanding, but that by no means prevented me from looking up to him in my own mind as to a being superior not only to myself but to the common run of humanity. I was sorry when we got back in sight of the weir, and as I stepped ashore I thought that this morning and the one I had spent with Sister Agnes in Charke Forest were the two happiest of my life. I had no prevision that the fair-haired young man with whom I had passed three such pleasant hours would, in after years, influence my life in a way that just now I was far too much a child even to dream of. CHAPTER VI. THE GROWTH OF A MYSTERY. We started at five o'clock to walk back to Dupley Walls, the major, and I, and George. It was only two miles away across the fields. I was quite proud to be seen in the company of so stately a gentleman as Major Strickland, who was dressed this afternoon as for a visit of ceremony. He had on a blue frock-coat tightly buttoned, to which the builder had imparted an intangible something that smacked undeniably of the vieux soldat. He wore a hat rather wide in the brim; a high stiff checked cravat; a white vest; and lacquered military boots, over which his tightly strapped trousers fell without a crease. He had white buckskin gloves, a stout silver-headed malacca cane, and carried a choice geranium in his button-hole. There was not much conversation among us by the way. The major's usual flow of talk seemed to have deserted him this afternoon, and his mood seemed unconsciously to influence both George and me. Lady Pollexfen's threat to send me to a French school weighed down my spirits. I had found dear friends--Sister Agnes, the kind-hearted major, and his nephew, only to be torn from them--to be plunged back into the cold cheerless monotony of school-girl life, where there would be no one to love me, but many to find fault. We went back by way of the plantation. George would not go any farther than the wicket at its edge, and it was agreed that he should there await the major's return from the hail. "I hope, Miss Holme, that we shall see you at Rose Cottage again before many days are over," he said, as he took my hand to bid me farewell. "Uncle has promised to ask her ladyship to spare you for a few days."