silence, and inspected each other with a palpable wistfulness of look.
"And yet it's twenty-five years since we met, isn't it?" said the old gentleman, almost as if he were talking to himself. "But I knew you at once—I was wondering if you remembered me?"
"Why, of course," responded Mrs. Greyle. "Besides, I've had an advantage over you. I've seen you, you know, several times—at Norcaster. We go to the theatre now and then. Audrey—this is Mr. Dennie—you've seen him, too."
"On the stage—on the stage!" murmured the old actor, as he shook hands with the girl. "Um!-I wonder if any of us are ever really off it! This affair, for instance—there's a drama for you! By the-bye—this young Squire—he's your relation, of course?"
"My nephew-in-law, and Audrey's cousin," replied Mrs. Greyle. Mr. Dennie, who had walked along with them towards their cottage, stopped in a quiet stretch of the quay, and looked meditatively at Audrey.
"Then this young lady," he said, "is next heir to the Greyle estates, eh? For I understand this present Squire isn't married. Therefore———"
"Oh, that's something that isn't worth thinking about," replied Mrs. Greyle hastily. "Don't put such notions into the girl's head, Mr. Dennie. Besides, the Greyle estates are not entailed, you know. The present owner can do what he pleases with them—besides that, he's sure to marry."
"All the same," observed Mr. Dennie, imperturb-
