I hope you've not waited tea ?' 'Why, of course we have,' said the Squire's voice.

'Forest!--tea at once.' Elizabeth, not having perceived his approach in the dimness of the February twilight, turned with a start to greet the Squire.

He looked, to her eyes, lankier and thinner and queerer than ever.

But it was a distinguished queerness.

Elizabeth had forgotten that the brow and eyes were so fine, and the hair so glistening white.