"Take it amiss--good gracious, no! Pray, let Miss--Miss Nevill, did you
say?--come as often as she likes. What about the cellars, Mrs. Eccles?"

"I will get the key, Sir John." The housekeeper precedes him out of the
room, but Sir John stands still by the window.

"What a picture," he says to himself below his breath; "how well she
looks there. She gives to the old place just the one thing it lacks--has
always lacked ever since I have known it--the presence of a beautiful
woman. Yes, Mrs. Eccles, I am coming." This last aloud, and he hastens
downstairs.

Five minutes later, Sir John Kynaston says to his housekeeper,

"You need not scare that young lady away from the place by telling her
I was here to-day and saw her. And you may get the rooms ready, Mrs.
Eccles, and order anything that is wanted, and get in a couple of maids,
for I have made up my mind to bring my horses down next month."




CHAPTER III.

FANNING DEAD ASHES.

Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan,
Sorrow calls no time that's gone,
Violets plucked, the sweetest rain
Makes not fresh, nor grow again.