Arrived at her aunt's gate, Aldyth paused for a moment to gaze at the wide-stretching prospect she loved. The view was unusually clear. She could see the long arms of a distant windmill rising black against the sky, and the spire of Wickham Church standing forth from a background of pearly grey. Old thoughts, old memories swept back upon her with the sight, and their influence was saddening.
"'Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; it is her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy,'"
she murmured to herself as she entered the garden; but though she knew this source of joy her own, she was hardly able to rejoice at that moment.
The little maid who opened the door gave a start of surprise at seeing her. Not having been long in Miss Lorraine's service, she hardly knew Aldyth, and was dismayed at her early appearance.
"Miss Lorraine never thought you would be here till the evening," she said; "she will not be back herself till six."
And Aldyth remembered that it was the afternoon on which her aunt held her "mothers' meeting."
To arrive before one is expected is seldom a cheering experience. Although there was no house in which she should feel more at home, a sensation of dreariness and loneliness oppressed Aldyth as she went up stairs to her old room. The little maid followed her, uneasy and apologetic.
"Mistress told me to light the fire," she said; "but I didn't think there was any hurry."
"It does not matter," Aldyth said.
But the maid at once set about the neglected duty, with the result that the room was soon full of smoke.