your farms upon which, if a man works, he cannot make a living. On the
other hand, there is not one of them on which a man can make a living
unless he works. It is upon this principle that your rents have been
adjusted. The tenants of the home lands have been most carefully chosen,
and Thorpe itself is spoken of everywhere as a model village."

"It is very charming to look at," its mistress admitted. "The flowers
and thatched roofs are so picturesque. 'Quite a pastoral idyll,' my
guests tell me. The people one sees about seem contented and respectful,
too."

"They should be, madam," Mr. Hurd answered drily. "The villagers have
had a good many privileges from your family for generations."

The lady inclined her head thoughtfully.

"You think, then," she remarked, "that if anything should happen in
England, like the French Revolution, I should not find unexpected
thoughts and discontent smouldering amongst them? You believe that they
are really contented?"

Mr. Hurd knew nothing about revolutions, and he was utterly unable to
follow the trend of her thoughts.

"If they were not, madam," he declared, "they would deserve to be in the
workhouse--and I should feel it my duty to assist them in getting
there."

The lady of Thorpe laughed softly to herself.

"You, too, then, Mr. Hurd," she said, "you are content with your life?
You don't mind my being personal, do you? It is such a change down here,
such a different existence ... and I like to understand everything."

Upon Mr. Hurd the almost pathetic significance of those last words was
wholly wasted. They were words of a language which he could not
comprehend. He realized only their direct application--and the woman to
him seemed like a child.

"If I were not content, madam," he said, "I should deserve to lose my
place. I should deserve to lose it," he added after a moment's pause,
"notwithstanding the fact that I have done my duty faithfully for four
and forty years."

She smiled upon him brilliantly. They were so far apart that she feared
lest she might have offended him.

"I have always felt myself a very fortunate woman, Mr. Hurd," she said,
"in having possessed your services."

He rose as though about to go. It was her whim, however, to detain him.

"You lost your wife some years ago, did you not, Mr. Hurd?" she began
tentatively. As a matter of fact, she was not sure of her ground.

"Seven years back, madam," he answered, with immovable face. "She was