ing back
to the place whence they came.

'Now, madam,' the young man said, after apologising for this uproar,
'let me show you into the only habitable room in the place where you can
have your desired interview with the Squire.'

He pushed open a door as he spoke, and holding it for Bryda to pass,
closed it again, and left her alone.

Bryda was in the old library, which was full of deed boxes and papers.
Books lined the walls, and a big chair at the farther end by the bay
window was the magistrate's seat, where Mr Bayfield had, after the
custom of the time, tried prisoners for poaching, petty larceny, and
other offences.

Bryda felt frightened, and yet gathered up all her courage to meet Mr
Bayfield when he appeared.

The summer sunshine, lying on the wide expanse of open country, did not
touch this gloomy room, which looked full north, and only caught a gleam
of brightness later in the day for a short space.

Bryda walked to the window and looked out. Flick was lying on the
terrace, his nose on his big ungainly paws, his ears pricked up--on
guard, and watching for a return of the yapping crew which the young
man's whip had so summarily dismissed.

The aspect of everything was dreary and cheerless. The dark firs, the
decayed urns, which flanked either side of the stone steps, the rough
terrace of loose stones, the long grass of the pleasance below, where a
few flowers were bravely struggling to show themselves under
difficulties.

'What a dreary place!' Bryda exclaimed. 'But, oh, I wish the Squire
would come. I wish Betty was here; but I must make the best of it now I
have come here. No gentleman would be cruel to an old man like
grandfather, and--'

She stopped, for the door opened and the same man whom she had met on
the road came in. He made a low bow, and advancing, said,--

'The Squire, otherwise David Bayfield, is at your service, madam. I pray
you be seated, and let me ask you to take such refreshment as this
miserable house can afford. I have ordered it to be brought.'

But Bryda stood like a fawn at bay, and said with all the calmness she
could command,--

'I do not understand, sir. I am at a loss to know whether--'

'I am the Squire? Yes, fair lady, I have the misfortune to bear that
ill-starred title, and I beg you to be seated and open out your
business.'

But Bryda, though trembling from head to foot, repressed all outward
sign of fear, and still stood, her hand on the back of the old car