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tanding in a park of I should not like to say how many acres, on the lower slopes of one of the grandest mountains in the Lake country? On the beautiful summer afternoon on which we first see it, it certainly looks one of the fairest spots in creation. As we stand on the doorstep, the valley opens out before us, stretching far to the south, and revealing reaches of lake and river, broad waving meadows and clustering villages, wild crags and pine-clad fells. We, however, do not stand on the doorstep to admire the view, or even to ask admission. We have the storyteller's latchkey and invisible cap. Let us enter. As we stand in the great square hall, hung round in baronial style with antlers, and furnished in all the luxury of modern comfort, wondering through which of the dozen doors that open out of the square it would be best worth our while to penetrate, a footman, bearing a tray with afternoon tea, flits past us. Let us follow him, for afternoon tea means that living creatures are at hand. We find ourselves in a snug little boudoir, furnished and decorated with feminine skill and taste, and commanding through the open French windows a gorgeous view down the valley. Two ladies, one middle-aged, one young, are sitting there as the footman enters. The elder, evidently the mistress of the mansion, is reading a newspaper; the younger is dividing her time between needlework and looking rather discontentedly out of the window. It is quite evident the two are not mother and child. There is not the slightest trace of resemblance between the handsome aquiline face of the elder, stylishly-dressed woman, and the rounder and more sensitive face of her quietly-attired companion. Nor is there much in common between the frank eyes and mock-demure mouth of the girl, and the half- imperious, half-worried look of her senior. "Tell Mr Rimbolt, Walker," says the mistress, as she puts down her paper, and moves her chair up to the tea-table, "and Master Percy." A handsome gentleman, just turning grey, with an intellectual and good- humoured face, strolls into the room in response to Walker's summons. "I was positively nearly asleep," he says; "the library gets more than its share of the afternoon sun." "It would be better for you, dear, if you took a drive or a walk, instead of shutting yourself up with your old books." The gentleman laughs pleasantly, and puts some sugar in his tea. "You are not very respectful
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