The Montella-Byrne alliance evoked no little comment in society and the Press, and it was tacitly agreed that Lady Patricia should be socially punished for her offence. Nevertheless, friends sprang up in defence of the newly-married pair from the most unexpected quarters, and Patricia found that she was not to lose all her Christian acquaintance after all. When Parliament adjourned for the Christmas recess, she and her husband travelled to a village near Thorpe Burstall, in the vicinity of which was situated the Montellas’ country seat. They arrived there at noon on Christmas Eve, and to their complete surprise, received an ovation at the railway station. The villagers, too loyal to be affected by the anti-Jewish agitation, remembered only the never-failing kindness they had received at the hands of the late Sir Julian Montella, and turned out in full force to welcome his son’s bride. Between the station and Burstall Abbey two arches of welcome had been erected, and although the quantity of highly-coloured paper with which they were adorned conduced to a somewhat crude effect, to the happy pair they were not lacking in beauty. When the second was reached, four stalwart men insisted on taking the horses out of the carriage, and themselves dragged the vehicle to its destination. Surely there could be no greater honour than this! Amidst the joyous sound of cheering they alighted and entered the house. Montella’s heart was so full that he could scarcely find words in which to frame his thanks. The devotion of the people, coming at a time when he had had nothing but unfavourable criticism on all sides, could not fail to touch him deeply. It showed him that the burning fever of anti-Semitism had at least not been permitted to penetrate here, and that it was still possible to show good feeling towards a Jew. He reciprocated by inviting them to dinner in the large hall on New Year’s Day, an invitation which, needless to say, was unanimously accepted. Burstall Abbey—which was built in the Gothic style—had come into the Montellas’ possession in 1870. It was a fine old place, and Sir Julian had taken pride in seeing that it was kept in good repair. There had been two chapels attached, the first of which had fallen into decay many years ago. The second had been transformed into a dining-room, and was one of the finest apartments in the house. The altar had long since been done away with, and its place was now occupied by a massive chiffonier; but the oak wainscot and mullioned windows remained, as well as the high-pointed arches and lofty roof. “What would the old monks say if they could see us enjoying our lunch here?” remarked Patricia laughingly, as she sat down to the table. “They would call us vandals and barbarians, I suppose.”