Wrychester as soon as he came to his new home. Dr. Ransford
spoke of these two as his wards, without further explanation;
the society of the Close was beginning to want much more
explanation. Who were they--these two young people? Was Dr.
Ransford their uncle, their cousin--what was he to them? In
any case, in the opinion of the elderly ladies who set the
tone of society in Wrychester, Miss Bewery was much too
young, and far too pretty, to be left without a chaperon.
But, up to then, no one had dared to say as much to Dr.
Ransford--instead, everybody said it freely behind his back.

Bryce had used eyes and ears in relation to the two young
people. He had been with Ransford a year when they arrived;
admitted freely to their company, he had soon discovered that
whatever relationship existed between them and Ransford, they
had none with anybody else--that they knew of. No letters
came for them from uncles, aunts, cousins, grandfathers,
grandmothers. They appeared to have no memories or
reminiscences of relatives, nor of father or mother; there was
a curious atmosphere of isolation about them. They had plenty
of talk about what might be called their present--their recent
schooldays, their youthful experiences, games, pursuits--but
none of what, under any circumstances, could have been a very
far-distant past. Bryce's quick and attentive ears discovered
things--for instance that for many years past Ransford had
been in the habit of spending his annual two months' holiday
with these two. Year after year--at any rate since the boy's
tenth year--he had taken them travelling; Bryce heard scraps
of reminiscences of tours in France, and in Switzerland, and
in Ireland, and in Scotland--even as far afield as the far