here.
Even now there are too many strangers about." He looked round as if he
expected those strangers of whom the priest had spoken to appear
suddenly from behind the yew hedges which stretched away, enclosing
Catherine Nagle's charming garden, to the left of the plateau on which
stood the old manor-house.

"Nay, nay," he repeated, returning to his grievance, "never had I
expected to find James Mottram a traitor to his order. As for the folk
about here, they're bewitched! They believe that this puffing devil will
make them all rich! I could tell them different; but, as you know, there
are reasons why I should not."

The priest bent his head gravely. The Catholic gentry of those days were
not on comfortable terms with their neighbours. In spite of the fact
that legally they were now "emancipated," any malicious person could
still make life intolerable to them. The railway mania was at its
beginnings, and it would have been especially dangerous for Charles
Nagle to take, in an active sense, the unpopular side.

In other parts of England, far from this Dorset countryside, railroads
had brought with them a revival of trade. It was hoped that the same
result would follow here, and a long strip of James Mottram's estate had
been selected as being peculiarly suitable for the laying down of the
iron track which was to connect the nearest town with the sea.

Unfortunately the land in question consisted of a wood which formed the
boundary-line where Charles Nagle's property marched with that of his
kinsman and co-religionist, James Mottram; and Nagle had taken the
matter very ill indeed. He was now still suffering, in a physical
sense, from the effects of the violent fit of passion which the matter
had induced, and which even his wife, Catherine, had not been able to
allay....

As he started walking up and down with caged, impatient steps, she
watched him with an uneasy, anxious glance. He kept shaking his head
with a nervous movement, and he stared angrily across the ravine to the
opposite hill, where against the skyline the large mass of Eype Castle,
James Mottram's dwelling-place, stood four-square to the high winds
which swept up from the sea.

Suddenly he again strode over to the edge of the terrace: "I think I'll
go down and have a talk to those railroad fellows," he muttered
uncertainly.

Charles knew well that this was among the forbidden things--the things
he must not do; yet occasionally Catherine, who was, as