“Yes, madam, you are the wife of Mr. Randolph Hay, of Haymore. You are the lady of the manor. And in this country a social abyss divides you and yours from me and mine as deep, as impassable as that ‘great gulf’ that lay between Dives and Lazarus,” said Longman solemnly. “It is not so! It shall not be so! I will not have it! Nothing but the will of Heaven shall divide us from our dear friends!” said Judy passionately. “No!” added Ran with earnest emphasis. “No social gulf shall separate us, Longman, dear old boy!” “Here we be at the lodge gates, sir. And this is the nearest point we pass to the rectory. We turn in here to go by the elm avenue up to the Hall. And the road continues right straight on under the park wall up to the rectory and the church, which is on the other side of the road,” the driver explained, drawing up. “Well, Longman, I should like you to go on to the house and dine with us, but I know it would be wrong to ask you,” said Ran, as the hunter got up to leave the carryall. “I will see you early in the morning, sir,” said the giant. And then he shook hands all around, jumped from the carryall and strode on up the road to the rectory on that visit to his mother which we have already described. A woman came out of the porter’s lodge on the right-hand side, swung open both broad leaves of the gate and stood courtesying as the carryall rolled through. “The old porter’s daughter—a worthy dame,” said the driver, in answer to a question from Ran. The carriage rolled on through an avenue shaded by great oaks, whose branches, however, were now bare. In the turns of this drive they caught glimpses of the house through the trees, with lights sparkling here and there from the many windows into the darkness. After several sweeping turns the avenue passed in front of the house, and the carriage drew up before a huge, oblong gray building, with turrets at each corner, bay windows on the first floor and balconies above. As the carriage stopped the hall door was flung wide, and several men and women servants appeared in the lighted hall. The butler stood in the door. Two footmen came down the steps to attend their master and mistress. Ran lifted Judy from the carriage, whispering: “Welcome home, my darling,” and led her up the steps and into the hall, followed by his friends. The butler, with a low bow, made way for them to pass. The housekeeper, a very aged woman, dressed in a brown satin gown and a lace cap, came forward to meet them. “Welcome home, sir and madam. We have waited for you long, and greet you gladly,” she said in a tone of exaggerated reverence and with a deep courtesy. Ran held out his frank hand, and Judy said: “Thank you, Mrs.—Mrs.——” “Basset, madam, and been in the family all my life, as mother and father were before me. Your old butler, sir, is my son, getting older every day, but not yet past service, either of us, I thank Heaven. Will you go to your room now, madam?”