'Have you any acquaintance with Squire Bayfield?' 'No, sir; not with the young Squire. He has been in foreign parts for years.' 'Yes, that's true; he came home a week ago to find his father dead and buried, and the old place a ruin for him to build up, and money short to do it.' Again there was silence, till a pair of large gates came in sight and a long avenue of firs leading up to a house, of which the low front was seen at the end of the drive. 'Is this Squire Bayfield's house, sir?' 'Yes, and I have business there also, so we will walk up to the door together.' Bryda hesitated, and then said,-- 'I have business with the Squire, sir; but it is of a private nature, and I must see him alone.' 'That I'll warrant you shall do, madam,' and insensibly the man's manner became more respectful. This was no country maiden to whom he might offer any familiarity, praise her beauty, or rally her on her charms. Bryda had always about her that innate purity and refinement, which acts as a shield against the shafts of impertinent admiration which men of a certain type in the eighteenth century were apt to offer to win favour with the belles of town or country. A short flight of stone steps led to the front entrance of the house, and here the young man paused. After a moment's hesitation he opened the door, and a parcel of dogs of all shapes and sizes came rushing out, whining and capering with delight. Immediately Flick stood at bay, and a scrimmage seemed imminent, when the young man took a short whip from a peg in the hall, and thrashing right and left, with a great many oaths and curses, exclaimed, 'The brutes--the underbred brutes,' as the dogs went whining and yelping back to the place whence they came. 'Now, madam,' the young man said, after apologising for this uproar, 'let me show you into the only habitable room in the place where you can have your desired interview with the Squire.' He pushed open a door as he spoke, and holding it for Bryda to pass, closed it again, and left her alone. Bryda was in the old library, which was full of deed boxes and papers. Books lined the walls, and a big chair at the farther end by the bay window was the magistrate's seat, where Mr Bayfield had, after the custom of the time, tried prisoners for poaching, petty larceny, and other offences. Bryda felt frightened, and yet gathered up all her courage to meet Mr Bayfield when he appeared. The summer sunshine, lying on the wide expanse of open country, did not touch this gloomy room, which looked full north, and only caught a gleam of brightness later in the day for a short space. Bryda walked to the window and looked out. Flick was lying on the terrace, his nose on his big ungainly paws, his ears pricked up--on guard, and watching for a return of the yapping crew which the young man's whip had so summarily dismissed.