rs. Vrain," said Lucian stiffly, "I think you and Miss
Vrain are better apart."

"Of course you defend her. But I guess I can't blame you, as I know what
you are driving at."

"What about Signor Ferruci?" asked Denzil, parrying.

"Oh, we are good friends still, but nothing more. As he proved that he
did not kill Mark, I've no reason to give him his walking-ticket. But,"
added Mrs. Vrain drily, "I guess you'll be married to Diana before I
hitch up 'longside Ercole."

"How do you know I shall marry Miss Vrain?" asked Lucian, flushing.

"If you saw your face in a glass, you wouldn't ask, I guess. Tomatoes
ain't in it for redness. I won't dance at your wedding, and I won't
break my heart, either," and with a gay nod Mrs. Lydia Vrain tripped
away, evidently quite forgetful of the late tragedy in her life.

CHAPTER XXII

AT BERWIN MANOR

The heritage of Diana lay some miles from Bath, in a pleasant wooded
valley, through which meandered a placid and slow-flowing stream. On
either side of this water stretched broad meadow lands, flat and
fertile, as well they might be, seeing they were of rich black loam, and
well drained, withal. To the right these meadows were bounded by forest
lands, the trees of which grew thickly up and over the ridge, and on the
space where wood met fields was placed the manor, a quaint square
building of Georgian architecture, and some two centuries old.

Against the green of the trees its warm walls of red brick and sloping
roof of bluish slate made a pleasant spot of colour. There stretched a
terrace before it; beneath the terrace a flower garden and orchard; and
below these the meadow lands, white with snow in winter, black in
spring, with ridgy furrows, and golden with grain in the hot days of
summer. Altogether a lovely and peaceful spot, where a man could pass
pleasant days in rural quiet, a hermitage of rest for the life-worn and
heart-weary.

Here, towards the end of summer, came Lucian, to rest his brain after
the turmoil of London, and to court his mistress under the most
favourable circumstances. Diana had established herself in her ancestral
home with a superannuated governess as a chaperon, for without such a
guardianship she could hardly have invited the barrister to visit her.
Miss Priscilla Barbar was a placid, silver-haired old dame, who, having
taught Diana for many years, had returned, now that the American Mrs.
Vrain had departed, to spend the rest of her days und