d
drove them on long journeys of exploration to remote villages, or to the
cheery little market-town ten miles away.

They all three set out for a walk one afternoon, when Gilbert had been
about a fortnight at Lidford, with no particular destination, only bent
on enjoying the lovely weather and the rustic beauty of woodland and
meadow. The Captain chose their route, as he always did on these
occasions, and under his guidance they followed the river-bank for some
distance, and then turned aside into a wood in which Gilbert Fenton had
never been before. He said so, with an expression of surprise at the
beauty of the place, where the fern grew deep under giant oaks and
beeches, and where the mossy ground dipped suddenly down to a deep still
pool which reflected the sunlit sky through a break in the dark foliage
that sheltered it.

"What, have you never been here?" exclaimed the Captain; "then you have
never seen Heatherly, I suppose?"

"Never. By the way, is not that Sir David Forster's place?" asked
Gilbert, remembering John Saltram's promise.

He had seen very little more of his friend after that visit to
Rivercombe, and had half forgotten Mr. Saltram's talk of coming down to
this neighbourhood on purpose to be presented to Marian.

"Yes. It is something of a show-place, too; and we think a good deal of
it in these parts. There are some fine Sir Joshuas among the family
portraits, painted in the days when the Forsters were better off and of
more importance in the county than they are now. And there are a few
other good pictures--Dutch interiors, and some seascapes by Bakhuysen.
Decidedly you ought to see Heatherly. Shall we push on there this
afternoon?"

"Is it far from here?"

"Not much more than a mile. This wood joins the park, and there is a
public right of way across the park to the Lidford road, so the gate is
always open. We can't waste our walk, and I know Sir David quite well
enough to ask him to let you see the pictures, if he should happen to be
at home."

"I should like it of all things," said Gilbert eagerly. "My friend John
Saltram knows this Sir David Forster, and he talked of being down here at
this time: I forgot all about it till you spoke of Heatherly just now. I
have a knack of forgetting things now-a-days."

"I wonder that you should forget anything connected with Mr. Saltram,
Gilbert," said Marian; "that Mr. Saltram of whom you think so much. I
cannot tell you how anxious I am to see wh