She turned from me impatiently, saying: ‘It is easy for you to doubt their existence; perhaps if you had seen what I have, you would think differently.’ ‘What have you seen?’ I inquired. But offended by my scepticism on the subject, the young lady did not choose to reply. She drew herself up proudly, and after inquiring if there was anything I needed, left me to make my toilet. Vexed with myself for having so soon given offence to my charge, I strove for the rest of the day to ingratiate myself with her; nor were my efforts unsuccessful. ‘I think I shall like you,’ she said frankly; ‘that is, if you do not interfere with me too much. I was dreadfully put out when Cousin told me you were coming, for I like to be sole mistress here. By the way, how do you like my guardian? I always call him Cousin, although I do not at all understand how we are related to each other. I know nothing of my parents, except that they died when I was a very little child. Cousin has promised to tell me about them some day; but he looks so grave whenever I refer to them, that I fancy there must be something painful for me to learn concerning my parentage, and therefore I do not intend to ask any more questions. But you have not told me how you like Mr Aslatt.’ I was amused at her eager curiosity, and told her that although I had had so little opportunity of judging, I had received a most favourable impression of her guardian’s character and disposition. She seemed pleased with my reply. ‘You can have no idea how good he is,’ she said. ‘But he is a man of strong prejudices, and it is hard to move him when he has once made up his mind with regard to any person or thing. Not that I mean to find fault with him, for as far as I am concerned I have not the least cause of complaint. I cannot tell you how kind he is to me, or how much I owe him. He is the best old darling in the world!’ ‘He is surely not so very old,’ I remarked, smiling at her enthusiasm. ‘Don’t you think so?’ returned she. ‘He seems quite old to me; but of course you are much older than I am, and therefore judge differently of age. Would you mind telling me how old you are? I know it is very rude of me to ask, but I always seem to do what I ought not.’ I laughed, and informed her that I was in my twenty-eighth year. ‘Nearly ten years older than I am,’ she remarked, ‘and fourteen years younger than Mr Aslatt; so you see he really is old.’ ‘Not old for a man,’ I ventured to say. ‘Yes; he is,’ contradicted my companion impatiently, shaking back her golden hair. At this moment Mr Aslatt entered the room in which we were sitting. ‘I have just been thinking, Rose,’ he said, ‘that if it is fine to-morrow, we might ride over to Ashdene. I daresay Miss Bygrave would like to see the old Priory there.—Are you fond of riding?’ he added, addressing me. It was long since I had been in the saddle; but in earlier years I had exceedingly enjoyed the exercise, and I told him so.