Now if Chris had been a really conscientious and strong-minded girl, instead of the perfect fool her kind friends declared her to be, she would have been quite satisfied with having put an end to her correspondence with Mr. Richard, and would have been shocked at the idea of his wishing to carry it on. It is sad, therefore, to be obliged to relate that every morning, while taking her walk in the enclosed garden, as he had begged her to do (for Johnson proved delightfully corruptible), she cast an inquiring glance towards the spot where she had found Mr. Richard’s first letter. And, all things considered, it is not surprising that before long she found a second. She had given him fresh hope, fresh courage, he said. But again he begged her to say nothing on his behalf to anybody, assuring her that before very long he hoped to be able to act upon her advice, for which he thanked her most gratefully. And then, after a day or two, during which she contented herself with glancing shyly up at his window, at one of which he was always to be seen watching her with very eloquent eyes, it began to seem rather cruel not to let him have just a few lines to assure him that she had received his letter. So that another kind little missive got posted under the door of the east wing; and though she begged again that he would not write to her, there was something about the injunction which made it read to the young man like an invitation. And so, with many qualms of conscience on the one side, at least, an intermittent correspondence went on, which became the happiness and the misery of the girl’s life. In the meantime, John Bradfield laid siege to her affections with a good deal of tact, inflicting upon her very little of his society, but anticipating her wishes in every possible way, until she found that he had gradually become the fountain-head of a great many pleasures which she would never have known but for him. She could not mention a book that she would like to read, a flower she was fond of, or a composer whose works she would like to study, without finding, in the course of the next few days, book, plant or music lying about as if it had found its way into her presence by magic. These attentions made Chris uncomfortable, and Mrs. Abercarne very happy. The latter thought it wiser to say nothing, and was deceived by her daughter’s manner. For Chris, grateful on the one hand for Mr. Bradfield’s kindness to herself, and anxious on the other to pave the way for coaxing him to do justice to his ward, acquired towards the master of the house a manner full of a sort of pleading diffidence, so that both her mother and Mr. Bradfield believed that the charm was beginning to work. CHAPTER XXVII. A HOUSE-WARMING. It was about six weeks after Christmas when Mrs. Graham-Shute again descended upon Wyngham, not for mere invasion, but with a view to settling in the conquered country.