nly people to whom I have ever spoken freely of these things. I am
sure of your discretion and sympathy."

He crossed the floor and, opening a cabinet, came back with a
photograph, which he gave to his companion.

"Dick's father. He was famous as a daring rider across an Irish,
stone-wall country, and was killed when taking a dangerous leap."

Greythorpe studied the face, which was of Irish type, with bold eyes in
which a reckless twinkle showed. On the whole, it suggested an ardent
and somewhat irresponsible temperament.

"No sign of weakness there," he said. "Though he might be careless and
headstrong, this man would ride straight and stand fire. I can't hint
at an explanation of his son's disaster, but I imagine that one might
have been found if it had been diligently searched for. My opinion is
that there's something hidden; but whether it will ever come out is
another matter. But--your nephew hasn't forfeited my liking. If I can
ever be of any service."

"Thanks; I know," responded Challoner. "It looks as if he meant to cut
loose from all of us. While I'm sorry, I can't say that he's wrong or
that it's not a proper feeling. And now I think we'll let the subject
drop."

The next afternoon was bright and mild, and soon after Mrs. Foster and
her party arrived Challoner offered to show them his winter shrubbery.

"I have lately planted a number of new specimens which you and Margaret
have not seen," he said; "and you may be interested to learn what
effects can be got by a judicious mingling of bushes remarkable for the
beauty of their berries and branch-coloring among the stereotyped
evergreens."

They went out and Millicent thought the front of the old house with its
mullioned windows, its heavy, pillared coping, and its angular chimney
stacks, made a picturesque background for the smooth-clipped yew hedges
and broad sweep of lawn. Behind it a wood of tall beeches raised their
naked boughs in pale, intricate tracery against the soft blue sky. The
shrubs proved worth inspection, for some were rich with berries of hues
that varied from crimson to lilac, and the massed twigs of others
formed blotches of strong coloring. The grass was dry and lighted by
gleams of sunshine, the air only cold enough to make movement pleasant.

When Challoner and his guests returned to the house, he showed them the
best bits of the old carved oak with which it was decorated and some
curious works of art he had picked