"Very prettily undulating ground," she said, standing on the steps,
and looking over a somewhat rapid slope scattered with trees to the
opposite side of the valley, where a park with a red mansion in the
midst gleamed out among woods of green, red, orange, and brown
tints. "How you are shut in! That great Spanish chestnut must be a
perfect block when its leaves are out. My father would never let it
stand so near the house."

"It is too near, but it was planted at the birth of my mother's
brother."

"Who died?"

"Yes, at seven years old. It was her first grief."

"Then it would vex her if you cut it."

Raymond laughed. "It is hers, not mine."

"I forgot." There was a good deal in the tone; but she added, "What
is that place opposite?"

"Sirenwood. It belongs to Sir Harry Vivian; but he does not live
there."

"Yes, he does," said Cecil. "Your brothers say he has come back
with his two daughters."

"There is only one unmarried."