"
She saw Lady Ruth and stopped.
"Oh! I beg your pardon!" she exclaimed. "I did not know."
"This is Lady Ruth Barrington," Wingrave said; "my ward, Miss Juliet
Lundy."
"Your--ward?" Lady Ruth said, gazing at her intently.
Juliet nodded.
"Sir Wingrave has been very kind to me since I was a child," she said
softly. "He has let me live here with Mrs. Tresfarwin, and I am afraid
I sometimes forget that it is not really my home. Am I in the way?"
she asked, looking wistfully towards Wingrave.
"By no means!" he exclaimed. "Lady Ruth is just going. Will you see
that she has some tea or something?"
Lady Ruth laughed quietly.
"I think," she said, "that it is I who am in the way! I should love
some tea, if there is time, but whatever happens, I must not miss that
train."
A DREAM OF PARADISE
It seemed to Wingrave that the days which followed formed a sort of
hiatus in his life--an interlude during which some other man in his
place, and in his image, played the game of life to a long-forgotten
tune. He moved through the hours as a man in a maze, unrecognizable to
himself, half unconscious, half heedless of the fact that the garments
of his carefully cultivated antagonism to the world and to his fellows
had slipped very easily from his unresisting shoulders. The glory of a
perfect English midsummer lay like a golden spell upon the land. The
moors were purple with heather, touched here and there with the fire
of the flaming gorse, the wind blew always from the west, the gardens
were ablaze with slowly bursting rhododendrons.
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