of the fine pear--the gift of a friend in
Thame--which proved to be the "summat else" of promise. The curtains
were close-drawn; the paraffin lamp flared on the table, and as the
savoury smell of the hare and onions on the fire filled the kitchen, the
whole family gathered round watching for the moment of eating. The fire
played on the thin legs and pinched faces of the children; on the baby's
cradle in the further corner; on the mother, red-eyed still, but able to
smile and talk again; on the strange Celtic face and matted hair of the
dwarf. Family affection--and the satisfaction of the simpler physical
needs--these things make the happiness of the poor. For this hour,
to-night, the Hurds were happy.

Meanwhile, in the lane outside, Marcella, as she walked home, passed a
tall broad-shouldered man in a velveteen suit and gaiters, his gun over
his shoulder and two dogs behind him, his pockets bulging on either
side. He walked with a kind of military air, and touched his cap to her
as he passed.

Marcella barely nodded.

"Tyrant and bully!" she thought to herself with Mrs. Hurd's story in her
mind. "Yet no doubt he is a valuable keeper; Lord Maxwell would be sorry
to lose him! It is the system makes such men--and must have them."

The clatter of a pony carriage disturbed her thoughts. A small, elderly
lady, in a very large mushroom hat, drove past her in the dusk and bowed
stiffly. Marcella was so taken by surprise that she barely returned the
bow. Then she looked after the carriage. That was Miss Raeburn.

To-morrow!

CHAPTER X.

"Won't you sit nearer to the window? We are rather proud of our view at
this time of year," said Miss Raeburn to Marcella, taking her visitor's
jacket from her as she spoke, and laying it aside. "Lady Winterbourne is
late, but she will come, I am sure. She is very precise about
engagements."

Marcella moved her chair nearer to the great bow-window, and looked out
over the sloping gardens of the Court, and the autumn splendour of the
woods girdling them in on all sides. She held her head nervously erect,
was not apparently much inclined to talk, and Miss Raeburn, who had
resumed her knitting within a few paces of her guest, said to herself
presently after a few minutes' conversation on the weather and the walk
from Mellor: "Difficult--decidedly difficult--and too much manner for a
young girl. But the most picturesque creature I ever set eyes on!"

Lord Maxwell's sister was an e