_Docile_? The word passing through his mind again, as it had in the morning, roused in him mingled laughter and uneasiness. For outside their classical work together, nothing indeed could be less docile than Miss Bremerton. How she had withstood him in the matter of the codicil! He could see her still, as she stood there with her hands behind her, defying him. And that morning also, when she had spoken her mind on the project of the gates. Well, now, he had to go in and tell her that the deed was done, and the park was closed. He crept round to a side door, nervous lest she should perceive him from the library, and made Forest get him some lunch. Then he hung about the hall smoking. It was ridiculous--nonsensical--but he admitted to himself that he shrank from facing her. At last a third cigarette put the requisite courage into him, and he walked slowly to the library. As he entered the room, Elizabeth rose from her chair. She stood there waiting for his orders, or his report--her quiet eyes upon him. He told himself not to be a fool, and throwing away his cigarette, he walked up to her, and said in a tone of bravado: 'Well, the barricades are up!' CHAPTER VIII The Squire having shot his bolt, looked anxiously for the effect of it. Elizabeth, apparently, took it calmly. She was standing with one hand on the table behind her, and the autumn sun streaming in through the western windows caught the little golden curls on her temples, and the one or two small adornments that she habitually wore, especially a Greek coin--a gold stater--hanging on a slender chain round her neck. In the Squire's eyes, the stately figure in plain black, with the brilliant head and hands, had in some way gathered into itself the significance of the library. All the background of books, with its pale and yet rich harmony of tone, the glass cases with their bronzes and terra-cottas, the statues, the papers on the table, the few flowers that were never wanting to Elizabeth's corner, the taste with which the furniture had been re-arranged, the general elegance and refinement of the big room in fact, since Elizabeth had reduced it from chaos to order, were now related to her rather than to him. He could not now think of the room without her. She had become in this short time so markedly its presiding spirit. 'Let there be order and beauty!' she had said, instead of dirt and confusion; and the order and beauty were there. But the presiding spirit was now surveying him, with eyes that seemed to have been watchfully withdrawn, under puckered brows. 'I don't understand,' said Elizabeth. 'You have fastened up the gates?' 'I have,' said the Squire jocularly. 'Mrs. Perley believes the Committee will bring a tank! That would be a sight worth seeing.' 'You really want to stop them from ploughing up that land?' 'I do. I have offered them other land.' Elizabeth hesitated. 'Don't you believe what the Government say, Mr. Mannering?' 'What do they say?'