"Yes, but that fact should make us careful of the present, should it not? You will not like in years to come to remember that you refused to see your mother. Don't laugh if I give you a remark of Rebecca's. 'People must have sad memories through life, but they need not have remorseful ones!'" Rufus smiled. "What has become of Rebecca, is she still living?" he asked, trying to turn the conversation. "Yes, she lives with a brother in London, and when I feel in want of advice I always turn to her. I have written to tell her of our meeting each other again." "And how has she taken it?" A pretty blush came to Greta's cheeks, and she replied with her light laugh: "You know she always considered our acquaintance rather an improper one. She accused me of picking up a strange young man on the road, and I never shall forget the feeling of shame that came over me when she added that only a very bold and forward child could have done it." "But I think it was quite the other way. I think it was I who picked you up, wasn't it?" And then they both laughed at the remembrance of that stormy morning in March. Only a few weeks later to this Mrs. Warren was suddenly taken worse, and after a week's prolonged suffering passed quietly away; Greta being with her to the last. Lady Chatterton came down from town, and after the funeral took Greta back with her, so for a time Rufus and the latter drifted apart. He heard that she had gone abroad with her aunt; then that she was visiting in Scotland; but when he gathered that the family were again in town, he left Derbyshire, and anxiously and expectantly made his appearance again in London society. And it was at another social gathering that he next saw her. She looked tired and sad, though her face brightened at the sight of him. "I cannot stand town life," she confided to him with something of her old childish manner. "I thought I should like it so much at one time, but I have been so disappointed. I feel I want to breathe physically and mentally, and if I were a free agent I would run away from it all." "And why don't you?" "My aunt needs me. She is getting old, and says I make the house brighter. She has had a lonely life, for my uncle is so busy with politics that he is hardly ever with her; so it would be cruel to leave her. You see I have learned to grumble; but your face brought back that sweet Derbyshire moor. Have you left it for long?" "I don't know," was the blunt reply. "I am so glad to see you in town," Greta went on a little eagerly. "I have wished so much to meet you. Can you come to tea with us to-morrow afternoon? My aunt is having a few friends, and she will be delighted to see you." "I will come with the greatest pleasure." And Rufus went away feeling this eager welcome was more than he expected.