gh
among the ruins of Oniton. He lacked his father's ability in business,
and so had an ever higher regard for money; unless he could inherit
plenty, he feared to leave his children poor.

As he sat thinking, one of the ladies left the terrace and walked into
the meadow; he recognised her as Margaret by the white bandage that
gleamed on her arm, and put out his cigar, lest the gleam should betray
him. She climbed up the mound in zigzags, and at times stooped down, as
if she was stroking the turf. It sounds absolutely incredible, but for
a moment Charles thought that she was in love with him, and had come out
to tempt him. Charles believed in temptresses, who are indeed the strong
man's necessary complement, and having no sense of humour, he could not
purge himself of the thought by a smile. Margaret, who was engaged to
his father, and his sister's wedding-guest, kept on her way without
noticing him, and he admitted that he had wronged her on this point. But
what was she doing? Why was she stumbling about amongst the rubble and
catching her dress in brambles and burrs? As she edged round the
keep, she must have got to windward and smelt his cigar-smoke, for she
exclaimed, "Hullo! Who's that?"

Charles made no answer.

"Saxon or Celt?" she continued, laughing in the darkness. "But it
doesn't matter. Whichever you are, you will have to listen to me. I love
this place. I love Shropshire. I hate London. I am glad that this will
be my home. Ah, dear"--she was now moving back towards the house--"what
a comfort to have arrived!"

"That woman means mischief," thought Charles, and compressed his lips.
In a few minutes he followed her indoors, as the ground was getting
damp. Mists were rising from the river, and presently it became
invisible, though it whispered more loudly. There had been a heavy
downpour in the Welsh hills.

CHAPTER XXVI

Next morning a fine mist covered the peninsula. The weather promised
well, and the outline of the castle mound grew clearer each moment that
Margaret watched it. Presently she saw the keep, and the sun painted
the rubble gold, and charged the white sky with blue. The shadow of the
house gathered itself together, and fell over the garden. A cat looked
up at her window and mewed. Lastly the river appeared, still holding the
mists between its banks and its overhanging alders, and only visible as
far as a hill, which cut off its upper reaches.

Margaret was fascinated by Oniton. She ha