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CHAPTER II.

ALICE walked home in a very meditative spirit after her visit to these neighbours. The name she had heard accidentally that afternoon woke many slumbering memories, and broke up the calm everyday film of habit as a stone breaks the newly-formed ice on a shallow pool. Ten years ago! Could it be the same Arthur Campbell? Some inward informer betrayed that it was indeed the same; as far as any person can be said to be identical with himself after ten years of changing existence. She tried to divine the circumstances which might bring him to this out-of-the-way spot, and above all she tried to recollect all she had heard of these friends of his since her arrival in Green Street, and of the beautiful hoiden who so openly chattered of his devotion to herself. There was something frank and outspoken in this colonial girl. Alice felt that she would not boast in vain, and that Arthur Campbell had

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