"Exactly. Is it the Rayleighs of Borley Castle, we know them very well; or the Manbys of Flixley Abbey, delightful people, we are quite intimate with them; or the Sundridges of Fairley Manor, there are no pleasanter people in the world—so good, so ladylike, and yet they say Mrs Sundridge's father was something very low, a Calcutta merchant, or India director, or something of that sort. Is it any of these?"
"No! It is with a gentleman who has lately taken a small villa in the neighbourhood, and I am afraid he will think I have been absent from him too long. Do you sketch here every day?"
"Till I have finished this tiresome building," replied Miss Arabel. "I must avail myself of the fine weather, and not miss a single morning."
The gentleman smiled, and so did the lady. With another apology for having intruded, he bowed and withdrew.
Miss Arabel continued where she was, till she lost his graceful figure among the windings of the shrubbery.
"He is a charming man," she thought, "and might easily manage to get acquainted with papa if he chose. Who can he be?—he's very clever and very accomplished—and walks so nobly. I wonder if he is in the Guards."
She opened her sketch-book once more, and was busy with her pencil, and her thoughts at the same time. She had not seen what necessity there was for taking his leave so hurriedly, and perhaps a faint idea came to her, that it was not impossible he might return. While she was new-pointing her pencil, and recalling all that the stranger had said, she heard a footstep coming through the plantation.
"Hush! He is coming again. He can't stay away."
"Servant, young mum—servant, and all that," said a voice close behind her;—"Scratch! scratch! there you go, painting bricks as if they was Christians, and all that."
"Sir! Are you aware this is private property. Papa would be very angry if"——