riory, lighted up by the yellow October sunshine. In that sunshine
stood a tall, clean-limbed young fellow, dressed in a shooting-suit,
whom the consul recognized at once as Lord Algernon, the son of his
companion. As if to accent the graces of this vision of youth and vigor,
near him, in the shadow, an old man had halted, hat in hand, still
holding the rake with which he had been gathering the dead leaves in the
avenue; his back bent, partly with years, partly with the obeisance of
a servitor. There was something so marked in this contrast, in this
old man standing in the shadow of the fading year, himself as dried and
withered as the leaves he was raking, yet pausing to make his reverence
to this passing sunshine of youth and prosperity in the presence of his
coming master, that the consul, as they swept by, looked after him with
a stirring of pain.

"Rather an old man to be still at work," said the consul.

Beverdale laughed. "You must not let him hear you say so; he considers
himself quite as fit as any younger man in the place, and, by Jove!
though he's nearly eighty, I'm inclined to believe it. He's not one of
our people, however; he comes from the village, and is taken on at odd
times, partly to please himself. His great aim is to be independent of
his children,--he has a granddaughter who is one of the maids at the
Priory,--and to keep himself out of the workhouse. He does not come from
these parts--somewhere farther north, I fancy. But he's a tough lot, and
has a deal of work in him yet."

"Seems to be going a bit stale lately," said Lord Algernon, "and I think
is getting a little queer in his head. He has a trick of stopping and
staring straight ahead, at times, when he seems to go off for a minute
or two. There!" continued the young man, with a light laugh. "I say!
he's doing it now!" They both turned quickly and gazed at the bent
figure--not fifty yards away--standing in exactly the same attitude as
before. But, even as they gazed, he slowly lifted his rake and began his
monotonous work again.

At Scrooby Priory, the consul found that the fame of his fair
countrywoman had indeed preceded her, and that the other guests were
quite as anxious to see Miss Desborough as he was. One of them had
already met her in London; another knew her as one of the house party at
the Duke of Northforeland's, where she had been a central figure. Some
of her naive sallies and frank criticisms were repeated with great
unction