For a score of years the Rocketts had kept the lodge of Brent Hall. In the
beginning Rockett was head gardener; his wife, the daughter of a
shopkeeper, had never known domestic service, and performed her duties at
the Hall gates with a certain modest dignity not displeasing to the stately
persons upon whom she depended. During the lifetime of Sir Henry the best
possible understanding existed between Hall and lodge. Though Rockett's
health broke down, and at length he could work hardly at all, their
pleasant home was assured to the family; and at Sir Henry's death the
nephew who succeeded him left the Rocketts undisturbed. But, under this new
lordship, things were not quite as they had been. Sir Edwin Shale, a
middle-aged man, had in his youth made a foolish marriage; his lady ruled
him, not with the gentlest of tongues, nor always to the kindest purpose,
and their daughter, Hilda, asserted her rights as only child with a force
of character which Sir Edwin would perhaps have more sincerely admired had
it reminded him less of Lady Shale.

While the Hall, in Sir Henry's time, remained childless, the lodge prided
itself on a boy and two girls. Young Rockett, something of a scapegrace,
was by the baronet's advice sent to sea, and thenceforth gave his parents
no trouble. The second daughter, Betsy, grew up to be her mother's help.
But Betsy's elder sister showed from early years that the life of the lodge
would afford no adequate scope for _her_ ambitions. May Rockett had good
looks; what was more, she had an intellect which sharpened itself on
everything with which it came in contact. The village school could never
have been held responsible for May Rockett's acquirements and views at the
age of ten; nor could the High School in the neighbouring town altogether
account for her mental development at seventeen. Not without misgivings had
the health-broken gardener and his wife consented to May's pursuit of the
higher learning; but Sir Henry and the kind old Lady Shale seemed to think