heir coming to England must have made a great change in your life," I
remarked.

"It _has_ made a difference," she answered. "But one should not lead
one's life exactly to please one's self. They were in sore distress, and
I am thankful that they came to me, and that I had the power to
help them."

This set me thinking. She spoke gravely, and I knew that she meant what
she said. But underlying it there was a suggestion that, for some reason
or another, she had not been altogether favourably impressed by her
visitors. Whether I was right in my suppositions I could not tell then,
but I knew that I should in all probability be permitted a better
opportunity of judging later on. We crossed the little bridge, and
passed along the high road for upwards of a mile, until we found
ourselves standing at the entrance to one of the prettiest little
country residences it has even been my lot to find. A drive, some thirty
yards or so in length, led up to the house and was shaded by overhanging
trees. The house itself was of two stories and was covered by creepers.
The garden was scrupulously neat, and I fancied that I could detect its
mistress's hand in it. Shady walks led from it in various directions,
and at the end of one of these I could discern a tall, restless figure,
pacing up and down.

"There is my uncle," said the girl, referring to the figure I have just
described. "That is his sole occupation. He likes it because it is the
only part of the garden in which he can move about without a guide. How
empty and hard his life must seem to him, now, Mr. Fairfax?"

"It must indeed," I replied. "To my thinking blindness is one of the
worst ills that can happen to a man. It must be particularly hard to one
who has led such a vigorous life as your uncle has done."

I could almost have declared that she shuddered at my words. Did she
know more about her uncle and his past life than she liked to think
about? I remembered one or two expressions he had let fall in his
excitement when he had been talking to me, and how I had commented upon
them as being strange words to come from the lips of a missionary. I had
often wondered whether the story he had told me about their life in
China, and Hayle's connection with it, had been a true one. The
tenaciousness with which a Chinaman clings to the religion of his
forefathers is proverbial, and I could not remember having ever heard
that a Mandarin, or an official of high rank, had been convert