Barbara Rebell

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e sat down in the dining-room was served. She looked with some curiosity at the elderly

of life in Chancton Priory, but that even they, who when apart were formidable, and when united irresistible,

tainment of her infrequent guests to be carried on exactly as if she herself were still coming and going with fleet, graceful steps about the house of which she had been for so many years the proud and happy mistress. She liked to feel that she was still dispensing hospitality in the stately dining-room, from the w

e new inmate of the Priory, and impressed more than he knew by Barbara's fragile beauty and air of high breeding. In theory no living man was less amenable to the influence of feminine charm or of ou

y than was the fashion of that hour, fell in austere folds about her upright slender figure; the knowledge that she was about to see Madame Sampiero had brought a flush to her pale cheeks and a light to her dark eyes. With

e,-the heart, as it were,-of Chancton Priory. The great hall, the drawing-room in which she had received Doctor McKirdy's odd confidences, even the dining-room where a huge fire blazed in her honour, had

was deliberately smoothing out the deep lines carved by ever-present watchfulness and anxiety on the rugged surface of his face. Then he knocked twice, sharp quick knocks, signal-

ell saw as in a vision that which recalled, and to a startling degree, a great Roman lying-in-state to

couch, placed catafalque fashion, in the centre of the room, an absolutely immobile figure lay stretched out. The light shed from candles set in bran

hem, past the cross-over lace shawl which almost wholly concealed the velvet bodice, and so to the still beautiful oval face, and the elaborately dressed, thickly powdered hair. On the mit

stricted audience which represented the great band of former adorers and friends, some of whom would fain ha

l colour-a sign of how deeply she was moved-came into the delicately moulded, slightly rouged cheeks. The maid who stood by,-a gaunt Scotchwoman who, by dint of Doctor McKirdy's fierceness of manner, and the foreknowle

that same sight seemed to produce in the elderly man who now stood by her. Doctor McKirdy's whole manner had altered. He had become qui

e said, "and I'm minded to think that Chancto

ds, nay, not words, but strange sounds signifying-what did they signify?-came from the trembling lips. Mrs. Rebell herself soon learned to interpret Madame Samp

e rooms prepared for you were those preferred by Mrs. Richard." He bent forward, and put his hand to his ear, for even he had difficulty in understanding the now whispered mutterings, "Ay, ay, I will tell her, ne

trembling mittened hands. "I do thank you," she said, almost inau

r McKirdy, glancing sharply at their still listener, saw that Madame Sampiero was content, and that his expe

the first moment of her arrival at Chancton Priory, how strange, how abnormal were the conditions of existence ther

ing to find likenesses to her father-ay, even to herself-in the portraits of those dead and gone men and women whose eyes seemed to follow her as she came

nt, thought girlhood ended at twenty-but a joyous single-hearted creature, her only past a not unhappy girlhood, and six long peaceful years s

words with which Mrs. Turke greeted her-Mrs. Turke resplendent in a black satin gown, mu

ut it's Madam's fault,-she's said it to me and the doctor a dozen times this fortnight, 'When Miss Barbara's come home so-and-so will have to be done

r the coming here so constant of my own young gentleman-of Mr. James Berwick, I mean-we would be perished with dulness. 'The more the merrier'-you'll hardly believe, Ma'am, that such was used to be the motto of Chancton Priory. That was long ago, in the days of Madam's go

ancton Priory?" Mrs. Rebell was lookin

t there's one story that reminds me very much indeed of my own romantic affair,-no doubt you've read it,-Mr. James Berwick, he knows it quite well,-that of the Primrose family. Olivia her name was, and she was deceived just as I was,-but there,

rbara's face. "You won't be mentioning what I've been telling you to the doctor, will you, Ma'am? He hates anything romantic, that he do,

what doe

ill talk about spades, Mrs. Turke, then talk about spades, don't call them silver spoons,'-as if I would do such a silly thing! But there, he do lead such a horrid life, all al

lently he watched her go, with no jibe ready. He was looking straight at Mrs.

bara felt the crinkle of bank notes. "She would like you to get your things, your clothes and a' that, from Paris. Old Léonie, Madam's French maid,-I don't think you've seen her yet,-will give you the addresses. Madam likes those about her to look well. I'm the only one that has any licence that way-oh! and something con

Now," he said, "be pleased to place that envelope in there, and turn the key yourself." As Barbara obeyed him, her hand fumbling with the lock, he added with a look of relief, "After busin

he said quickly, "just put this on." He brought her the long white yachting cloak, yet another gift, this time disguised as a loan, of Grace Johnstone, and after he had folded it round her with kindly clumsy hands, and when she had drawn the white hood over her dark hair,-"You loo

r much that she remembered afterwards, and which amused and interested her at the time, of the people who had lived in the splendid old house. The life-stories of some of Barbara's forbears had struck th

by trees, reigned a great air of desolation: there were three horses stabled where there had once been forty, and as they passed out from the courtyard where grass grew between each ston

flowers for?" he growled out, "grass and trees are much less perishable. Is not this prospect more grand and more p

his lean arm stretched out, he was pointing down a broad grass drive, now flecked with long shafts of golden October sun

and through the aperture so made could be seen a rose garden, the ancient rosery of Chancton Priory, now a tangle of exquisite col

to bring Mrs. Rebell to this spot, but silently he opened the little iron gate, a

dowed enclosure many of the summer roses were still blooming. And yet a feeling of oppression came over Barbara as she walked slowly down the

hat furthest from the Priory. It was bounded by a high red brick wall, probably all that remained of some building older than the rosery, for it had been cleverly utilised to serve as a background and shelter to the earliest spr

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rbara asked with some eagerness. "How s

tronger burr than usual, Doctor McKirdy translated, in a quiet emotionless voice, the inscription which h

ring maid, Julia, the roses protect and cherish thy limbs. Ah,

ather sharply, "'Twas put in against my w

r head, and

other remembers

met his. "Madam would have her put here," he said; "Julia's garden,-that's what

hen there's not a man or woman about the place who's forgotten the child! Bu

past she was remembering a June day at St. Germains. What ha

ay-be of some who do not belong to the Priory, who live beyond the walls. I make no doubt

garden, his head thrust forward, his hands clasped behind his

Priory, then down the broad grass drive. "And now," he said briskly

and was over-arched by great elms. To the west Mrs. Rebell caught glimpses of a wide plain verging t

been a bad illness,-might give her the bloom, the radiance, which were now lacking. The old Scotchman also told himself with satisfaction that she was intelligent-probably cultivated. With the one supreme exception of Madame Sampiero, Doctor McKirdy had had very little t

Mr. Sampier

asantly roused from an a

t that happened once before, and then he c

r own exclusive benefit?" He did not wait for her reply, "I think you should just be informed that the man-that individual to whom you referred-is never to be mentioned. Here

Madam had to communicate with me about him she wrote what she had to say-I, making answer to her, fol

a. "I did not know-My father

ay just mean you to do so, and you may as well be put on your guard. And then you'll be having your own friends here, I'm thinking"-he shot a quick look at her-"Madam bid me tell

. Johnstone, the Governor of Santa Maria, and his wife-also, since yesterday, a third,-if he will take me on trust for my

louded as Barbara added, "There is one person in Chancton I'm very anxiou

e prepared, and ready with an answer. "Well, I'm not sayi

e her daughter I kno

. Oliver Boringdon-I do so myself,

and of how badly from his point of view this same young gentleman, Oliver Boringdon, sometimes behaved to him! But native caution, a

t words annoy

ied, "of course

of feuds, and to him the land agent, all the more so that he was a highly educated man, who had been a civil

acquainted with him," she cried, "surely I should not be calling him by his Christian name! But of course hi

refer, o' course, Ma'am, to the youth himsel

eited? Oh!

's no' the word for it. Mr. Oliver Boringdon just considers that he is always right, and that such a g

ike him?-he's her la

gnantly, "Madam has never wasted a

was still smiling: a delicate colour, the effect o

a was waking up to life again, ready to take pleasure in the slightest matter which touched her sense of humour. The doctor, however, had become seriously uneasy. Why this strange interest in the Boringd

are many young la

her is General Thomas Kemp. May-be you've heard of him, for he's quite a hero, Vic

I never heard of the

nd she had then read, with keen zest, numberless old-fashioned novels of English life. This talk seemed to bring back to her mind many a favourite story, out of which she had tried in the long a

kable prescience, Ma'am. I was just about explaining to you that there is no doubt something like a kindness b

ve a long engagement,"-Barbara sighed instinctively-"they will be married in the little church w

aid Doctor McKirdy gruffly, "that woul

to the east, lay a dark oasis, a black-green stretch of fir plantation, redeemed a hundred years ago from the close cropped turf, and a large white house looked out from thence up the distant sea. To the north, some three miles away, rose the hi

ath which at a certain point sharply converged from that on which Doctor McKirdy and Barbara stoo

d-as indeed he was-far more a citizen of the world. He was bare-headed, his fair hair ruffled and lifted from his lined forehead by the wind; his shooting clothes, of rough tweed and ugly yellow check colouring, were more or less out of shape. He was smoking a huge pipe,

ick vigorously by way of greeting. Indeed Berwick, as Doctor McKirdy very well saw, would have soon lessened the ten yards

the other is his fidus Achates, Mr. James Berwick: he's a conceited loon if you like. But then

was excused by the fact that he recognised in her his sister's friend. Barbara flushed deeply; she was wondering, with acute discomfort, what account of her, and of her affairs, Grace Johnstone-impetuous, indiscreet Grace-had written to her mothe

appeared like, just now,--" he hesitated a moment, and then with manifest enjoyment added, "The policeman and the poacher! Tha