"You are sure you will not claim what is your right?" she asked. "Sure you will not allow Mr. Hendy to establish you at your old home?" "I have no home," I cried. "If you do not wish me to stay and serve you, I will ride back to the old place, and, having discharged the servants, I will leave it forever." "Nay, nay, Roger," cried old Peter, yet I saw that his eyes gleamed with avarice. Taking no notice of him I waited for the maid Nancy's answer. "Do you wish me to remain near you?" I repeated. "No," she answered; "but I should like Mr. Hendy to stay for an hour or so if he will." "Then I am dismissed?" I said rudely, for my heart was very sore; but she made no answer, whereupon I turned on my heel, and a few minutes later was riding towards my old home. Old Daniel welcomed me with tearful eyes. I might have been away years instead of a few days. And yet, as I considered what had happened since I bade him good-bye, years seemed to have elapsed. "Is all well, Daniel?" I asked, after many protestations of joy and affection on his part. "All well, Master Roger; all well. The attorney hath been here much, but I have no complaints to make. The serving-maids will be rejoiced to see 'ee, sur. They say the 'ouse is so lonely as a church when you be out ov et. Aw, sur, I be glad to see 'ee." I had meant to tell the old man of my plans, but his joy at seeing me tied my tongue. I did not think the servants cared so much for me, and this revelation of their affection made it hard for me to tell them that on the morrow they would have to leave my service and the house which some of them had learnt to love. As a consequence, I determined to delay the news until the following morning. This set me thinking again upon all that had happened, and, as well as I could, I tried to understand the whole bearing of the case. I had successfully completed the work I had undertaken, but in so doing I had changed the whole tenor of my life. I had gone to Endellion a woman hater; on returning I knew that I had willingly laid my heart at a woman's feet. I had, on discovering this, abandoned the idea of taking the maid Nancy to Treviscoe, and she had insisted on going. Why? I formed many surmises concerning this, but could think of nothing which satisfied me. The great question, however, was what would become of her? That she had a purpose in going to Trevisa's I did not doubt; but I knew, too, that old Peter would not lightly let her leave his house. Doubtless, also, young Peter had devised many plans for the purpose of fulfilling his heart's desire. I knew he would seek to forge claims whereby he would try and bind Nancy to him. And I had left her at Treviscoe, unprotected and alone. True, I was confident that she could hold her own against both father and son, nevertheless it was dangerous for her to be there.