The rector discussed some parish difficulties with his hostess, while Colonel Ormonde, though profoundly occupied with his dinner, managed to throw an observation from time to time to his young neighbors.

“Rode round by Brinkworth Heath in two hours and a half,” he was saying to Lady Alice, when Katherine listened.  “That was fair going.  I did not think you would have got Mrs. Ormonde to start without an escort.”

“We had an escort.  Lord Francis Carew and Mr. De Burgh came over to luncheon, and they rode with us.”

“Ha, Errington! you see the result of leaving this fair lady’s side all unguarded!  These fellows come and usurp your duties.”

“Do you think I should wish Lady Alice to forego any amusement because I am so unlucky as to be prevented from joining her?” returned Errington, in a deep mellow voice.

Katherine looked across the table to see how Lady Alice took the remark, but she was rearranging some geraniums and a spray of fern in her waistband, and did not seem to hear.  She was a slight colorless girl of nineteen, with regular features, an unformed though rather graceful figure, and a distinguished air.

Errington caught the expression of his neighbor’s face as she glanced at his fiancee, a sympathetic smile parting her lips.  It was rarely that a countenance had struck him so much, which was probably due to his odd but strong impression that his new acquaintance, was both startled and displeased at being introduced to him—­an impression very strange to Errington, as he was generally welcomed by all sorts and conditions of men, and especially of women.

The silence of Lady Alice did not seem to disturb her lover; he turned to Katherine and asked, “Were you of the riding party to-day!”

“No,” she replied, meeting his eyes fully for an instant, and then averting her own, while the color came and went on her cheek; “I only arrived in time for dinner.”

“Have I ever met this young lady before?” thought Errington, much puzzled.  “Have I ever unconsciously offended or annoyed her?  I don’t think so; yet her face is not quite strange to me.”  And he applied himself to his dinner.

“I fancy you have had rather a dull time of it in town?” said Colonel Ormonde, leaning back, while the servants removed the dishes.

“No, I was not dull,” replied Katherine, glad to turn to him.  “I was very comfortable, and of course not in a mood to see many strangers or to go anywhere.  Then I was interested in Mr. Payne’s undertakings; they are quite as amusing as amusements.”

“Bertie Payne! to be sure; the nephew or brother of your doughty chaperon.  He is always up to some benevolent games.  Queer fellow.”

“He is very, very good,” said Katherine, warmly, “and he does so much good; only the amount of evil is overpowering.”

“Yes,” said Errington; “I am afraid such efforts as Payne’s are mere scratching of the surface, and will never touch the root of the evil.”