trotted briskly onward to his house, a distance of about a
mile, each cottage, as it revealed its half-buried position by its single
light, appearing like a one-eyed night creature watching him from an
ambush. Leaving his horse at the parsonage he performed the remainder of
the journey on foot, crossing the park towards Welland House by a stile
and path, till he struck into the drive near the north door of the
mansion.

This drive, it may be remarked, was also the common highway to the lower
village, and hence Lady Constantine's residence and park, as is
occasionally the case with old-fashioned manors, possessed none of the
exclusiveness found in some aristocratic settlements. The parishioners
looked upon the park avenue as their natural thoroughfare, particularly
for christenings, weddings, and funerals, which passed the squire's
mansion with due considerations as to the scenic effect of the same from
the manor windows. Hence the house of Constantine, when going out from
its breakfast, had been continually crossed on the doorstep for the last
two hundred years by the houses of Hodge and Giles in full cry to dinner.
At present these collisions were but too infrequent, for though the
villagers passed the north front door as regularly as ever, they seldom
met a Constantine. Only one was there to be met, and she had no zest for
outings before noon.

The long, low front of the Great House, as it was called by the parish,
stretching from end to end of the terrace, was in darkness as the vicar
slackened his pace before it, and only the distant fall of water
disturbed the stillness of the manorial precincts.

On gaining admittance he found Lady Constantine waiting to receive him.
She wore a heavy dress of velvet and lace, and being the only person in
the spacious apartment she looked small and isolated. In her left hand
she held a letter and a couple of at-home cards. The soft dark eyes
which she raised to him as he entered--large, and melancholy by
circumstance far more than by quality--were the natural indices of a warm
and affectionate, perhaps slightly voluptuous temperament, languishing
for want of something to do, cherish, or suffer for.

Mr. Torkingham seated himself. His boots, which had seemed elegant in
the farm-house, appeared rather clumsy here, and his coat, that was a
model of tailoring when he stood amid the choir, now exhibited decidedly
strained relations with his limbs. Three years had passed sinc