all at
Chene Manor, the home of Barbara, and her parents Sir John and Lady
Grebe. Sir John's was a baronetcy created a few years before the
breaking out of the Civil War, and his lands were even more extensive
than those of Lord Uplandtowers himself; comprising this Manor of Chene,
another on the coast near, half the Hundred of Cockdene, and
well-enclosed lands in several other parishes, notably Warborne and those
contiguous. At this time Barbara was barely seventeen, and the ball is
the first occasion on which we have any tradition of Lord Uplandtowers
attempting tender relations with her; it was early enough, God knows.

An intimate friend--one of the Drenkhards--is said to have dined with him
that day, and Lord Uplandtowers had, for a wonder, communicated to his
guest the secret design of his heart.

'You'll never get her--sure; you'll never get her!' this friend had said
at parting. 'She's not drawn to your lordship by love: and as for
thought of a good match, why, there's no more calculation in her than in
a bird.'

'We'll see,' said Lord Uplandtowers impassively.

He no doubt thought of his friend's forecast as he travelled along the
highway in his chariot; but the sculptural repose of his profile against
the vanishing daylight on his right hand would have shown his friend that
the Earl's equanimity was undisturbed. He reached the solitary wayside
tavern called Lornton Inn--the rendezvous of many a daring poacher for
operations in the adjoining forest; and he might have observed, if he had
taken the trouble, a strange post-chaise standing in the halting-space
before the inn. He duly sped past it, and half-an-hour after through the
little town of Warborne. Onward, a mile farther, was the house of his
entertainer.

At this date it was an imposing edifice--or, rather, congeries of
edifices--as extensive as the residence of the Earl himself; though far
less regular. One wing showed extreme antiquity, having huge chimneys,
whose substructures projected from the external walls like towers; and a
kitchen of vast dimensions, in which (it was said) breakfasts had been
cooked for John of Gaunt. Whilst he was yet in the forecourt he could
hear the rhythm of French horns and clarionets, the favourite instruments
of those days at such entertainments.

Entering the long parlour, in which the dance had just been opened by
Lady Grebe with a minuet--it being now seven o'clock, according to the
tradition--he was rece