Kightly Montgomery had not the least idea that Jennie, by putting odds and ends of facts and probabilities together, had made herself acquainted with his fraudulent claim to the name of Hay, and to the inheritance of Haymore. He thought she knew nothing beyond the fact of his second marriage, not even the name under which he married, and that, therefore, she could not know how or where to seek him, even if she were disposed to do so, which he utterly disbelieved. With his wronged wife at the extreme south of England, and in ignorance of his present name and residence, he felt perfectly safe in coming to Haymore in the north, to gratify his pride and vanity by a triumphant entry, with his queenly and beautiful bride, into the village and on to the manor house. He little dreamed of the dread Nemesis awaiting him there. “Jennie, my darling, why are you so silent?” inquired Mr. Campbell, breaking in upon his daughter’s reverie. “I have been listening, papa.” “But you have not heard anything for the last half hour. We have not been talking.” “I listened with a great deal of interest while you did talk, papa.” “And you have heard that in a few days, perhaps, we are going to have grand doings at Haymore to welcome the young squire and his bride.” “Yes, papa dear, I heard all that.” “What do you think of it?” “I think it will be a very exciting time,” evasively replied the young woman. “Jennie, my dear, you speak so faintly. Are you tired?” “Yes, papa dear—rather tired.” “Take courage, then, for we are near home, where the mother is waiting to welcome us with a bright fire and a nice tea table,” said the curate. “Yes, papa. Don’t mind me, dear. It is a healthful weariness that will make me sleep all the better,” replied Jennie. But the last words were fairly jolted out of her mouth, for the carryall was now ascending a very steep hill. The curate turned his head again to speak to his daughter. “We are entering the village, dear, and the church and parsonage are at this end. You can see nothing from where you sit behind there. If you could you would see a stony road, with paving stones set sharp edge up to make a hold for horses’ hoofs, otherwise they could scarcely climb it And you would see high stone walls on each side of the road, with plantations behind them. These walls, my dear, inclose Haymore Park, through a portion of which this road runs. On the top of the hill is Haymore Old Church and Rectory. There is our home at present. There is an old graveyard around the church, and an old garden around the rectory. All this is at the entrance of the village, which stretches on both sides of the road over the hill and down the declivity. All around the manor, the church and the village roll the everlasting moors from the center to the circumference. There, my dear, you have a picture of our home, though you cannot see it.” “I see it in my mind’s eye, papa.” All this time the mule was toiling slowly, painfully up the steep ascent.