ness, if not
yet quite to peace. Lord Hartledon thought she was growing strong; and,
save that she would rather often go into a passion of hysterical tears as
she clasped her children to her, particularly the boy, her days passed
calmly enough. She indulged the children beyond all reason, and it was of
no use for their father to interfere. Once when he stepped in to prevent
it, she flew out almost like a tigress, asking what business it was of
his, that he should dare to come between her and them. The lesson was an
effectual one; and he never interfered again. But the indulgence was
telling on the boy's naturally haughty disposition; and not for good.

CHAPTER XXXII.

IN THE PARK.

As the days and weeks went on, and Lord and Lady Hartledon continued at
Calne, there was one circumstance that began to impress itself on the
mind of the former in a careless sort of way--that he was constantly
meeting Pike. Go out when he would, he was sure to see Pike in some
out-of-the-way spot; at a sudden turning, or peering forth from under
a group of trees, or watching him from a roadside bank. One special day
impressed itself on Lord Hartledon's memory. He was walking slowly along
the road with Dr. Ashton, and found Pike keeping pace with them softly on
the other side the hedge, listening no doubt to what he could hear. On
one of these occasions Val stopped and confronted him.

"What is it you want, Mr. Pike?"

Perhaps Mr. Pike was about the last man in the world to be, as the saying
runs, "taken aback," and he stood his ground, and boldly answered
"Nothing."

"It seems as though you did," said Val. "Go where I will, you are sure to
spring up before me, or to be peeping from some ambush as I walk along.
It will not do: do you understand?"

"I was just thinking the same thing yesterday--that your lordship was
always meeting _me_," said Pike. "No offence on either side, I dare say."

Val walked on, throwing the man a significant look of warning, but
vouchsafing no other reply. After that Pike was a little more cautious,
and kept aloof for a time; but Val knew that he was still watched on
occasion.

One fine October day, when the grain had been gathered in and the fields
were bare with stubble, Hartledon, alone in one of the front rooms, heard
a contest going on outside. Throwing up the window, he saw his young son
attempting to mount the groom's pony: the latter objecting. At the door
stood a low basket carriage, harn