Enderby House the bell was ringing for noon. The house was long and low,
with a fine tower in the centre, and two wings ran back, forming the
court-yard, which would have been entirely inclosed had the stables moved
up to complete the square.

When Enderby came out into the broad sweep of grass and lawn, flanked on
either side by commendable trees, the sun shining brightly, the rooks
flying overhead, and the smell of ripe summer in the air, he drew up his
horse and sat looking before him.

"To lose it! To lose it!" he said, and a frown gathered upon his
forehead.

Even as he looked, the figure of a girl appeared in the great doorway.
Catching sight of the horseman, she clapped her hands and waved them
delightedly.

Enderby's face cleared, as the sun breaks through a mass of clouds and
lightens all the landscape. The slumberous eyes glowed, the square head
came up. In five minutes he had dismounted at the great stone steps and
was clasping his daughter in his arms.

"Felicity, my dear daughter!" he said, tenderly and gravely.

She threw back her head with a gaiety which bespoke the bubbling laughter
in her heart, and said:

"Booh! to thy solemn voice. Oh, thou great bear, dost thou love me with
tears in thine eyes?"