Half an hour later Katherine's voice broke in upon the Forest of Arden.
"Maurice, Maurice, what are you doing? Mother sent me to find you."

"I am reading. Don't bother, please," was the reply, in a tone so far
removed from melancholy that Katherine, reassured, obediently retired.




CHAPTER SIXTH.

PUZZLES.

"How weary are my spirits!"


Up to this time life had been a simple and joyous matter to Rosalind. She
had known her own small trials and perplexities, but her father or Cousin
Louis were always at hand to smooth out tangles and show her how to be
merry over difficulties. Now all was different. There were puzzles on
every side and no one to turn to.

The house behind the griffins was not exactly a cheerful place. Rosalind
found herself stealing about on tiptoe lest she disturb the silence of the
spacious rooms. She hardly ventured to more than peep into the
drawing-room, where Miss Herbert's liking for twilight effects had full
sway. There was a pier table here, supported by griffins, the counterpart
in feature of those on the doorstep, which she longed to examine, but the
shades were always drawn and the handsome draperies of damask and lace
hung in such perfect folds she dared not disturb them.