She returned to the King’s road a trifle tired, and sat down on one of the benches there.  The passing of the people would amuse her; and now the pavement was thronged with a crowd of gayly-dressed folks, and the centre of the thoroughfare brisk with the constant going and coming of riders.  She saw strange old women, painted, powdered and bewigged in hideous imitation of youth, pounding up and down the level street, and she wondered what wild hallucinations possessed the brains of these poor creatures.  She saw troops of beautiful young girls, with flowing hair, clear eyes and bright complexions, riding by, a goodly company, under charge of a riding-mistress, and the world seemed to grow sweeter when they came into view.  But while she was vaguely gazing and wondering and speculating her eyes were suddenly caught by two riders whose appearance sent a throb to her heart.  Frank Lavender rode well, so did Mrs. Lorraine; and, though they were paying no particular attention to the crowd of passers-by, they doubtless knew that they could challenge criticism with an easy confidence.  They were laughing and talking to each other as they went rapidly by:  neither of them saw Sheila.  The girl did not look after them.  She rose and walked in the other direction, with a greater pain at her heart than had been there for many a day.

What was this crowd?  Some dozen or so of people were standing round a small girl, who, accompanied by a man, was playing a violin, and playing it very well, too.  But it was not the music that attracted Sheila to the child, but partly that there was a look about the timid, pretty face and the modest and honest eyes that reminded her of little Ailasa, and partly because, just at this moment, her heart seemed to be strangely sensitive and sympathetic.  She took no thought of the people looking on.  She went forward to the edge of the pavement, and found that the small girl and her companion were about to go away.  Sheila stopped the man.

“Will you let your little girl come with me into this shop?”

It was a confectioner’s shop.

“We were going home to dinner,” said the man, while the small girl looked up with wondering eyes.

“Will you let her have dinner with me, and you will come back in half an hour?”

The man looked at the little girl:  he seemed to be really fond of her, and saw that she was very willing to go.  Sheila took her hand and led her into the confectioner’s shop, putting her violin on one of the small marble tables while they sat down at another.  She was probably not aware that two or three idlers had followed them, and were staring with might and main in at the door of the shop.