in Knox said
good-night to his betrothed, he added, 'I am so glad I have seen you
all here. I shall picture your quiet Sundays when I am in the wilds of
Africa, and it will do me good!'

CHAPTER VI

A Departure

'The heart which like a staff was one
For mine to lean and rest upon,
The strongest on the longest day,
With steadfast love, is caught away,
And yet my days go on, go on.'--_E. B. Browning._

Miss Miller came to call with her brother a few days afterwards.
Agatha and Elfie were busy putting some finishing touches to the
drawing-room when they arrived.

Miss Miller looked round the room, when she was seated, with some
interest; and then she said abruptly,--

'Too much furniture, and too many useless ornaments, my dears. A
drawing-room ought to be for use, and not for show. Who arranges your
flowers?'

She might well ask, for none but an artist's hand could have grouped
together so harmoniously the daffodils and primroses, with trails of
ivy and fern in their beds of moss.

'Clare does,' responded Elfie brightly, sitting down by her side,
whilst Agatha turned to the vicar. 'She went out this morning and
picked them in a wood close to us. Aren't they lovely?'

'Not Major Lester's wood, I hope. He will not be best pleased to have
any one from this house trespassing in his places. Miss Dane, do you
know the history of your house?'

Agatha looked up, a little startled at the sharp voice. 'I did not
know it had any history,' she said.

'It is best you should know facts. No, Wilfrid, you need not stop me;
they will hear our village gossip fast enough. To begin with--your
house used to be the old vicarage. It was built on the site of an old
monastery. Our church is four hundred years old. The monastery came
to grief long before the church. When old Squire Lester died, most of
us thought the Hall would go to Mr. Tom. He had always been erratic
and restless, spending most of his time abroad, and the squire never
forgave his marriage with a French artist's daughter. He disinherited
him, and made his second son leave the army and come home. A couple of
years after, Mr. Tom returned, having lost his wife, and bringing a
little son with him, a boy of four years. The old squire seemed to
relent a little then, and was always having the child at the house.
Mr. Tom, as we call him here, settled in this house, and was on
friendly terms with his father till his death. Major Leste