He ruffled his thick crop of hair and looked at her more or less
quizzically.

"You have an air of suppressed enquiry," he said--"There is
something on your mind! You want to ask me a question--what is
it?"

A soft colour flew over her cheeks--she was confused to find him
reading her thoughts.

"It is really nothing!" she answered, quickly--"I was only
wondering a little about your name--because it is one I have known
all my life."

His eyebrows went up in surprise.

"Indeed? This is very interesting! I thought I was the only wearer
of such a very medieval appellation! Is there another so endowed?"

"There WAS another--long, long ago"--and, unconsciously to herself
her delicate features softened into a dreamy and rapt expression
as she spoke,--while her voice fell into its sweetest and most
persuasive tone. "He was a noble knight of France, and he came
over to England with the Due d' Anjou when the great Elizabeth was
Queen. He fell in love with a very beautiful Court lady, who would
not care for him at all,--so, as he was unhappy and broken-
hearted, he went away from London and hid himself from everybody
in the far country. There he bought an old manor-house and called
it Briar Farm--and he married a farmer's daughter and settled in