‘Both these bundles of shawls can’t belong to one gentleman, Nell,’ said her mother presently. ‘Come and take one into the other room. Ay, but that’s a beauty. And what a pretty plaid, too--green and orange and blue. Wouldn’t I like just such another to keep my feet warm when father drives me to market at Newport. Carry it carefully, lass. Don’t let the straps get loose, or maybe the gentleman will be annoyed.’ But Nell had already let the plaid of green and orange and blue fall to the ground. She recognised it now; she recognised the initials also. They both belonged to Mr John Portland. The thought made her head whirl. She sat down on the floor to recover herself. ‘Eh, Nell, my lass, but you’re faint,’ cried her mother. ‘Don’t sit on the bed, child, for mercy’s sake. You’ll ruin the look of the sheets; but get into the parlour as quick as you can. Why, what ails you? You were looking ever so well this morning.’ ‘Yes, mother, and I’m all right now,’ said Nell, as she made an effort to raise herself. ‘The day’s warm, you know, and I’m only a little tired. I’ll be better when I’ve had my dinner. I don’t think there’s anything more to be done to the rooms now, so I’ll go and look after my own,’ and so she escaped to the shelter of her bedroom. But when she had time to consider the scare she had received, she was ready to call herself a fool for having been frightened so easily. ‘The initials are certainly his,’ she thought, ‘and I’m almost sure he had a plaid something like that one; but, after all, I cannot be certain, and the initials J. P. might fit half a hundred names--John Platt, or James Philpott, or Joseph Plowden. It is silly of me to make sure they belong to Mr Portland until I have better proof. What should he be doing here in Usk? I never heard him mention the place, nor the name of Sir Archibald. I saw so much of him, they would have been sure to crop up some time or other. Oh, I have been frightening myself with a bogey. I am sure I have. How weak my nerves must have become. I was never like this in the old days,’ and Nell heaved a deep sigh as she spoke. Still, as the day drew to a close, and the owners of the portmanteaus might be expected to arrive at any moment to dress for dinner, she grew so nervous she could not stay in the house. The first person she encountered outside it was Hugh Owen, come to see if she would go for a country walk with him. ‘No,’ said Nell decidedly; ‘I can’t walk to-night. Mother wants me, and I have work to do indoors.’ ‘Have you heard that all the company’s arrived at the Hall?’ demanded Hugh; ‘six carriages full, the gardener told me, and as many more expected to-morrow.’ ‘Of course I know it,’ replied the girl petulantly; ‘we’ve two of them coming to sleep at the farm to-night. Do you know who they are?’ ‘No, I heard no names, except those of Sir Archibald and Lady Bowmant. What is it that is keeping you indoors, Nell?’ asked Hugh. ‘Nothing that concerns you,’ she answered.