"It wasn't--" he began, then stammered, and broke off, for he felt himself colouring a little. Imogen's face expressed some surprise. "It would almost be better for those girls to be uncivil and unkind to her, to the verge of endurance, than for them to `take her up,' and make her like themselves," had been the parent thought of the misgiving in his face. He turned round to Mrs Wentworth. "I do hope you are not _too_ uncomfortable?" he said. "That back seat, as Miss Wentworth discovered, is a degree better than is often the case, but still it must be rather wretched." "No, truly; I am very fairly comfortable," she replied, "and I almost think you are right, and that the rain is going off." Mrs Wentworth had a sweet voice, suggesting the possession of a sweet temper. Major Winchester began to like her better than he had done hitherto. "I should not think her the wisest of women, but a good creature all the same, though the daughter strikes me as having the more character of the two. Poor souls, I do trust they will never have cause to repent their expedition to The Fells. I will do what I can to make their visit pleasant," he said to himself, with short-sighted chivalry. And he outdid himself in little kindlinesses of talk and manner during the remainder of the drive, pointing out any objects of interest which they passed, amusing them with little descriptions of the guests and the family at The Fells, into which he endeavoured, so far as loyalty to his hosts permitted, to infuse some slight touches of warning. "Yes, Beatrix Helmont, my youngest cousin, is the baby--at least, the youngest sister--and as is often the case, I suppose, very fairly spoilt. I don't fancy you will take to her as much as to Florence, Miss Wentworth. There is a great deal of good in Florence, though she requires knowing." "But she is twenty-three or twenty-four--ever so old, isn't she?" said Imogen, in a disappointed tone. "Ye-es, quite that; but still, that is not very old, is it?" and he looked round to Mrs Wentworth to have his opinion endorsed. Mrs Wentworth, however, had not caught his last remarks. "Are we close to The Fells now?" she asked, eagerly. "I fancy I remember this part of the way. Don't we come to the lodge at a turn up that hilly road?" "Yes," Major Winchester replied. "What a good memory you have! We are regularly on the Fells now. Take care your wraps don't blow off." They were just turning as he spoke. The road came right out on the moorland, and the wind met them straight in the face--the two in the front, that is to say--Mrs Wentworth was protected. "Oh, how splendid!" said Imogen. "What delicious air! And what a great stretch of country, and those grim rocks. Are those what you call the Fells, Mr--are you Mr--Winchester?" "Major," Rex corrected, smiling. "Yes, Grey Fells Hall is just in front of those rocks, but on the other side. You will see in a minute. The gardens and lawn are over there."