"I should certainly not count upon that, if I were you, Mrs. Spruce," said Walden decisively; "Your business is to keep everything in order for the lady's arrival; but I don't think,--I really don't think, you are at all bound to inform Mr. Oliver Leach of the matter. He will no doubt find out for himself. or receive his orders direct from Miss Vancourt." Here he paused. "How old did you say she was when, she went away from home?" "Fifteen, sir. That was nigh eleven years ago,--just one week after the Squire's funeral, and a year afore you came here, sir. She's gettin' on for seven-and-twenty now." "Quite a woman, then," said Walden lightly; "Old enough to know her own mind at any rate. Do you remember her?" "Perfectly well, sir,--a little flitterin' creature all eyes and hair, with a saucy way of tossin' her curls about, and a trick of singin' and shoutin' all over the place. She used to climb the pine trees and sit in them and pelt her father with the cones. Oh, yes, sir, she was a terrible child to rule, and it's Gospel truth there was no ruling her, for the governesses came and went like the seasons, one in, t'other out. Ay, but the Lord knows I'll never forget the scream she gave when the Squire was brought home from the hunting field stone dead!" Here John Walden turned his head towards her with an air of more interest than he had yet shown. "Ah!--How was that?" he enquired. "He was killed jumpin' a fence;" went on Mrs. Spruce; "A fine, handsome gentleman,--they say he'd been wild in his youth; anyhow he got married in London to a great Court beauty, so I've been told. And after the wedding, they went travelling allover the world for a year and a half, and just when they was expected 'ome Mrs. Vancourt died with the birth of the child, and he and the baby and the nurses all came back here and he never stirred away again himself till death took him at full gallop,--which is 'ow he always wished to die. But poor Miss Maryllia--" And Mrs. Spruce sighed dolefully-- "'Twas hard on her, seein' him ride off so gay and well and cheery in the early mornin' to be brought home afore noon a corpse! Ay, it was an awsome visitation of the Lord! Often when the wind goes wimblin' through the pines near the house I think I 'ear her shriek now,--ay, sir!--it was like the cry of somethin' as was havin' its heart tore out!"