d look at me all day long. But tell me something
more about your father: he interests me very much."

Angela felt the tell-tale blood rise to her face as he praised her
eyes, and bit her lips with vexation; it seemed to her that she had
suddenly caught an epidemic of blushing.

"I cannot tell you very much about my father, because I do not know
much; his life is, to a great extent, a sealed book to me. But they
say that once he was a very different man, when he was quite young, I
mean. But all of a sudden his father--my grand-father, you know--whose
picture is on the stairs, died, and within a day or two my mother died
too; that was when I was born. After that he broke down, and became
what he is now. For twenty years he has lived as he does now, poring
all day over books of accounts, and very rarely seeing anybody, for he
does all his business by letter, or nearly all of it, and he has no
friends. There was some story about his being engaged to a lady who
lived at Rewtham when he married my mother, which I daresay you have
heard; but I don't know much about it. But, Mr. Heigham"--and here she
dropped her voice--"there is one thing that I must warn you of: my
father has strange fancies at times. He is dreadfully superstitious,
and thinks that he has communications with beings from another world.
I believe that it is all nonsense, but I tell you so that you may not
be surprised at anything he says or does. He is not a happy man, Mr.
Heigham."

"Apparently not. I cannot imagine any one being happy who is
superstitious; it is the most dreadful bondage in the world."

"Where are your ravens to-day?" asked Arthur, presently.

"I don't know; I have not seen very much of them for the last week or
two. They have made a nest in one of the big trees at the back of the
house, and I daresay that they are there, or perhaps they are hunting
for their food--they always feed themselves. But I will soon tell
you," and she whistled in a soft but penetrating note.

Next minute there was a swoop of wings, and the largest raven, after
hovering over her for a minute, lit upon her shoulder, and rubbed his
black head against her face.

"This is Jack, you see; I expect that Jill is busy sitting on her
eggs. Fly away, Jack, and look after your wife." She clapped her
hands, and the great bird, giving a reproachful croak, spread his
wings, and was gone.

"You have a strange power over animals to make those birds so fond of
you."

"Do y