“Meeting my old friend Mrs. Dodd a few days ago, I was sorry to find from her that your favorite, Rachel Trant, had been very unwell.  She had had a great deal of work, thanks to your kind efforts on her behalf, and sat at it early and late; then she took cold.  I went to see her, and found her in a state of extreme depression, like that from which you succeeded in rousing her.  I think it would be well if she could have a little change.  Are there any cheap, humble lodgings at Sandbourne, where she might pass a week or two?  I shall pass this matter in your hands.”

“I am sure old Norris’s wife would take her in.  They have a nice cottage, almost on the beach, close to the point.”

“No doubt.  Really that Rachel of yours is in great luck.  I wonder how many poor girls in London are dying for a breath of sea-air?”

“Ah, hundreds, I fear.  But then, you see, they have not been brought under my notice, and Rachel has; so I will do the best I can for her.  I am sure she is no common woman.”

“At all events she has no common luck.”

Katherine lost no time in visiting Mrs. Norris, and found that she was in the habit of letting a large, low, but comfortable room upstairs, where the bed was gorgeous with a patchwork quilt of many colors, and permitting her lodgers to dine in a small parlor, which was her own sitting-room.

The old woman had not had any “chance” that season, as she termed it, and gladly agreed to take the young person recommended by her husband’s liberal employer.  So Katherine walked back to write both to Bertie and their protegee.

During her absence De Burgh had called, but left no message.  And Katherine felt a little sorry to have missed him, as she thought it probable he would go on to town that afternoon, and she wanted to hear some tidings of Errington, yet could hardly nerve herself to ask.

The evening was gloriously fine, and as Miss Payne did not like boating, the pony-carriage was given up to her, the boys, and Miss North the governess, for a long drive to a farm-house where the boys enjoyed rambling about, and Miss Payne bought new-laid eggs.

When they had set out, Katherine took a white woolen shawl over her arm—­for even in July the breeze was sometimes chill at sundown—­and strolled along the road, or rather cart track, which led between the cliffs and the sea to the boatman’s cottage.  She passed this, nodding pleasantly to the sturdy old man, who was busy in his cabbage garden, and pursued a path which led as far as a footing could be found, to where the sea washed against the point.  It was a favorite spot with Katherine, who was tolerably sure of being undisturbed here.  The view across the bay was tranquilly beautiful; the older part of Sandbourne only, with the pretty old inn, was visible from her rocky seat among the bowlders and debris which had fallen from above, while the old tower at the opposite point of the bay stood