‘You here, Adela?’ the girl exclaimed.  ‘How strange!’

‘Why strange, Letty?’

’Oh, only because I had a sort of feeling that perhaps I might meet you.  Not here, particularly,’ she added, as if eager to explain herself, ’but somewhere in the wood.  The day is so fine; it tempts one to walk about.’

Letty did not approach her friend as she would have done when formerly they met here.  Her manner was constrained, almost timid; it seemed an afterthought when she bent forward for the kiss.  Since Adela’s marriage the intercourse between them had been comparatively slight.  For the first three months they had seen each other only at long intervals, in part owing to circumstances.  After the fortnight she spent in London at the time of her marriage, Adela had returned to Wanley in far from her usual state of health; during the first days of February there had been a fear that she might fall gravely ill.  Only in advanced spring had she begun to go beyond the grounds of the Manor, and it was still unusual for her to do so except in her carriage.  Letty had acquiesced in the altered relations; she suffered, and for various reasons, but did not endeavour to revive an intimacy which Adela seemed no longer to desire.  Visits to the Manor were from the first distressing to her; the natural subjects of conversation were those which both avoided, and to talk in the manner of mere acquaintances was scarcely possible.  Of course this state of things led to remark.  Mrs. Waltham was inclined to suspect some wrong feeling on Letty’s side, though of what nature it was hard to determine.  Alfred, on the other hand, took his sister’s behaviour ill, more especially as he felt a distinct change in her manner to himself.  Was the girl going to be spoilt by the possession of wealth?  What on earth did she mean by her reserve, her cold dignity?  Wasn’t Letty good enough for her now that she was lady of the Manor?  Letty herself, when the subject was spoken of, pretended to recognise no change beyond what was to be expected.  So far from being hurt, her love for Adela grew warmer during these months of seeming estrangement; her only trouble was that she could not go often and sit by her friend’s side—­sit silently, hand holding hand.  That would have been better than speech, which misled, or at best was inadequate.  Meantime she supported herself with the hope that love might some day again render her worthy of Adela’s confidence.  That her friend was far above her she had always gladly confessed; she felt it more than ever now that she tried in vain to read Adela’s secret thoughts.  The marriage was a mystery to her; to the last moment she had prayed that something might prevent it.  Yet, now that Adela was Mrs. Mutimer, she conscientiously put away every thought of discontent, and only wondered what high motive had dictated the choice and—­for such she knew it must be—­the sacrifice.

‘What are you reading?’ Letty asked, sitting down on the bank at a little distance.