‘You are fond of music?’ said Mrs. Ormonde.

‘Very fond.  How beautiful your playing is!’

’To-morrow you shall hear Miss Newthorpe play; hers is much better.  Will you sing this for me?’

When it was sung, she asked what other songs Thyrza knew.  They were all, of course, such as the people sing; some of them Mrs. Ormonde did not know at all, but to others she was able to play an accompaniment.  Her praise was limited to a few kind words.  On leaving the piano, she was thoughtful.

At ten o’clock Mrs. Mapper came to conduct Thyrza to her bedroom.

‘We have breakfast at half-past eight to-morrow,’ Mrs. Ormonde said.

‘If I am up in time,’ Thyrza asked, ‘may I go out before breakfast?’

‘Do just as you like, my dear,’ the other answered, with a smile.  ’I want you to enjoy your visit.’

In spite of the strangeness of her room, and of the multitude of thoughts and feelings to which the day had given birth, Thyrza was not long awake.  She passed into a dreamland where all she had newly learnt was reproduced and glorified.  But the rising sun had not to wait long for the opening of her eyes.  She sprang from bed and to the window, whence, how. ever, she could only see the tall chestnuts and a neighbouring cottage.  The day was again fine; she dressed with nervous speed—­there was no Lyddy to do her hair, for the very first time in her life—­then went softly forth on to the landing.  No one seemed to be stirring; she had no watch to tell her the time, but doubtless it was very early.  Softly she began to descend the stairs, and at length recognised the door of the drawing-room.  She did not like to enter:  it was only Mrs. Ormonde’s kindness that had given her a right to sit there the evening before.  But the house-door would not be open yet, she feared.  Just as she was reluctantly turning to go up and wait a little longer in her bedroom, a sound below at once startled and relieved her.  Looking over the banisters, she saw a servant coming from one of the rooms on the ground floor.  She hurried down.  The servant looked at her with surprise.

‘Good-morning!’ she said.  ‘Can I get out of the house?’

‘I’ll open the door for you, Miss.’

‘What time is it, please?’

‘It isn’t quite half-past six, Miss, You’re an early riser.’

’Yes, I want to go out before breakfast.  Please will you tell me which way goes to the sea?’

The servant gave her good-natured directions, and Thyrza was soon running along with a glimpse of blue horizon for guidance.  She ran like a child, ran till the sharp morning air made her breathless, then walked until she was able to run again.  And at length she was on the beach, down at length by the very edge of the waves.  Here the breeze was so strong that with difficulty she stood against it, but its rude caresses were a joy to her.  Each breaker seemed a living thing; now she approached timidly, now ran back with a delicious fear.  She filled her hands with the smooth sea-pebbles; a trail of weed with the foam fresh on it was a great discovery.  Then her eye caught a far-off line of smoke.  That must be a steamer coming from a foreign country; perhaps from France, which was—­how believe it?—­ yonder across the blue vast.