CHAPTER I.
AMONG THE HILLS There were three at the breakfast-table--Mr.Newthorpe, his daughter Annabel, and their visitor (Annabel's Cousin), Miss Paula Tyrrell.

It was a small, low, soberly-furnished room, the walls covered with carelessly-hung etchings and water-colours, and with photographs which were doubtless mementoes of travel; dwarf bookcases held overflowings from the library; volumes in disorder, clearly more for use than ornament.

The casements were open to let in the air of a July morning.
Between the thickets of the garden the eye caught glimpses of sun-smitten lake and sheer hillside; for the house stood on the shore of Ullswater.
Of the three breakfasting, Miss Tyrrell was certainly the one whose presence would least allow itself to be overlooked.

Her appetite was hearty, but it scarcely interfered with the free flow of her airy talk, which was independent of remark or reply from her companions.

Though it was not apparent in her demeanour, this young lady was suffering under a Calamity; her second 'season' had been ruined at its very culmination by a ludicrous _contretemps_ in the shape of an attack of measles.