ho lived at the end of
the village. The animal had one day attached itself to her while she was
taking a walk on the Apethorpe road; and now, by her feeding him daily
and making a pet of him, the girl and the dog had become inseparable. By
long walks and short train-journeys she had, in three months, been able
to inspect most of the antiquities of Northamptonshire. Much of the
history of the county was intensely interesting: the connection of old
Fotheringhay with the ill-fated Mary Queen of Scots, the beauties of
Peterborough Cathedral, the splendid old Tudor house of Deene (the home
of the Earls of Cardigan), the legends of King John concerning King's
Cliffe, the gaunt splendour of ruined Kirby, and the old-world charm of
Apethorpe. All these, and many others, had great attraction for her. She
read them up in books she ordered from London, and then visited the old
places with all the enthusiasm of a spectacled antiquary.

Every day, no matter what the weather, she might be seen, in her thick
boots, burberry, and tam o'shanter, trudging along the roads or across
the fields accompanied by the faithful collie. The winter had been a
comparatively mild one, with excessive rain. But no downpour troubled
her. She liked the rain to beat into her face, for the dismal,
monotonous cheerlessness of the brown fields, bare trees, and muddy
roads was in keeping with the tragedy of her own young life.

She knew that her aunt Emily disliked her. The covert sneers, the
caustic criticisms, and the go-to-meeting attitude of the old lady
irritated the girl beyond measure. She was not wanted in that painfully
prim cottage, and had been made to understand it from the first day.

Hence it was that she spent all the time she possibly could out of
doors. Alone she had traversed the whole county, seeking permission to
glance at the interior of any old house or building that promised
archaeological interest, and by that means making some curious
friendships.

Many people regarded the pretty young girl who made a study of old
churches and old houses as somewhat eccentric. Local antiquaries,
however, stared at her in wonder when they found that she was possessed
of knowledge far more profound than theirs, and that she could decipher
old documents and read Latin inscriptions with ease.

She made few friends, preferring solitude and reflection to visiting and
gossiping. Hers was, indeed, a pathetic little figure, and the
countryfolk used to sta