"I shall at all events put on a habit and get up on the mare John has given me. But I know very little of English hunting; I have only ridden in Italy. We used to go out in winter over the Campagna--that is very different to England." "You must look very well in a habit." He turned to look at her as he spoke. There was no reticence in his undisguised admiration of her. Vera laughed a little. "You shall look at me if you like when I have it on," she said, blushing faintly under his scrutiny. "I am grateful to you for the permission; but I am bound to confess that I should look all the same had you forbidden me to do so." Vera was pleased. She felt glad that he admired her. Was it not quite right and most desirable that her husband's brother should appreciate her beauty and ratify his good taste? "When does your mother come?" she said, changing the subject quietly, but without effort. "Only the very night of the ball, I am afraid. Tuesday, is it not?" "Have you written to her about me? She does not like me, I fear." "No; I will not write. She shall see you and judge for herself. I am not the least afraid of her not liking you when she knows you; and you will love her." By this time they had wandered away from the house through the belt of shrubbery, and had emerged beyond upon the margin of the pool of water. Vera stood still, suddenly struck with the sight. "Is this Shadonake Bath?" she asked, below her breath. "Yes; have you never seen it before?" he answered, in some surprise. "Never. I have not lived in Meadowshire long, you know, and the Millers were moving into the house and furnishing it all last summer. I have never been in the gardens till to-day. How strangely sad the place looks! Let us walk round it." They went round to the further side. The pool of water lay dark and silent within its stone steps; not a ripple disturbed its surface; not a dead leaf rested on its bosom. Only the motionless water looked up everlastingly at the gray winter skies above, and reflected them back blackly and gloomily upon its solemn face. Vera stood still and looked at it. Something in its aspect--she could not have told what--affected her powerfully. She went down two or three steps towards the water, and stooped over it intently. Maurice, watching her curiously, saw, to his surprise, that she trembled. She turned round to him. "Does it not look dark and deep? Is it very deep?" "I believe it is. There are all sorts of stories about it. Come up, Vera; why do you tremble so?" "How dreadful to be drowned here!" she said, below her breath, and she shuddered. He stretched out his hand to her. "Do not say such horrid things! Give me your hand--the steps are slippery. What has put drowning into your head? And--why, how pale you are; what has frightened you?" She took his hand and came back again to where he stood.