highly varnished.

Old Miss Heyburn lived there, and had lived there for the past
half-century. The prim, grey-haired, and somewhat eccentric old lady was
a well-known figure to all on that country-side. Twice each Sunday, with
her large-type Prayer-book in her hand, and her steel-rimmed spectacles
on her thin nose, she walked to church, while she was one of the
principal supporters of the village clothing-club and such-like
institutions inaugurated by the worthy rector.

Essentially an ascetic person, she was looked upon with fear by all the
villagers. Her manner was brusque, her speech sharp, and her criticism
of neglectful mothers caustic and much to the point. Prim, always in
black bonnet and jet-trimmed cape of years gone by, both in summer and
winter, she took no heed of the vagaries of fashion, even when they
reached Woodnewton so tardily.

The common report was that when a girl she had been "crossed in love,"
for her single maidservant she always trained to a sober and loveless
life like her own, and as soon as a girl cast an eye upon a likely swain
she was ignominiously dismissed.

That the sharp-tongued spinster possessed means was undoubted. It was
known that she was sister of Sir Henry Heyburn of Caistor, in
Lincolnshire; and, on account of her social standing, she on rare
occasions was bidden to the omnium gatherings at some of the mansions in
the neighbourhood. She seldom accepted; but when she did it was only to
satisfy her curiosity and to criticise.

The household of two, the old lady and her exemplary maid, was assuredly
a dull one. Meals were taken with punctual regularity amid a cleanliness
that was almost painful. The tiny drawing-room, with its row of
window-plants, including a pot of strong-smelling musk, was hardly ever
entered. Not a speck of dust was allowed anywhere, for Miss Emily's eye
was sharp, and woe betide the maid if a mere suspicion of dirt were
discovered! Everything was kept locked up. One maid who resigned
hurriedly, refusing to be criticised, afterwards declared that her
mistress kept the paraffin under lock and key.

And into this uncomfortably prim and proper household little Gabrielle
had suddenly been introduced. Her heart overburdened by grief, and full
of regret at being compelled to part from the father she so fondly
loved, she had accepted the inevitable, fully realising the dull
greyness of the life that lay before her. Surely her exile there was a
cruel and crush