Nobody disliked him more than John Dallington’s mother. But she had more reason than others for her disaffection, because she had a settled conviction that Harris and his granddaughter had money which she ought to have. Captain Dallington, who was always a wanderer, did not return to Darentdale after he had installed Harris and the child in the Old House. He had now been dead some years, and when his will was read his brother and his wife were astonished to find how little he had to leave. What he had was bequeathed to his relatives, excepting “the Old House, and all that was in it,” which was left to Henry Harris and Margaret Miller after him. The phrase—“and all that is in it”—had given John Dallington’s mother many an unhappy hour. But what it was that was in it nobody outside the house knew, excepting that for the last few years there was in that Old House the most beautiful and interesting girl that Darentdale ever owned. It was not her beauty alone, nor her tall, graceful figure, nor her musical voice, nor her sweet, brown eyes that were the attraction; but there was a charm about her that could not be named, and generally could not be resisted. Most people loved Margaret, even those who did not want to. Margaret, visiting Mrs. Wythburn, found her preparing for her departure. “We have made up our minds,” she said, “to go to London. Mary is there, and my husband believes that we shall be able to find her if we watch there. So we have taken rooms as near as possible to the Bank; and we quite hope to be successful in our search. We are willing that she should remain at the work she has chosen to do; and we shall no doubt eventually live in London altogether.” “But it is a pity to leave the country for London now, when the weather is so unusually hot.” “Our child is enduring the heat somewhere, and so can we. Besides, we cannot stay at Scourby. Do you know that Alfred Greenholme is already engaged to Hilda Copeland?” “No; but I am not surprised. She is far more suitable for him than our splendid Mary, who never could have been happy as his wife. I hope you are not letting that trouble you, Mrs. Wythburn?” “Perhaps it is annoyance rather than trouble. Mrs. Greenholme herself told me, and naturally, I had an unpleasant ordeal to go through. But the worst of it is, Margaret, that the people are setting very disagreeable stories afloat. Mrs. Greenholme said it was reported in the town that Mary and Dr. Stapleton had gone off together.” “Oh, the slanderous tongues! How dare they give utterance to such abominable falsehoods! I should feel disposed to try to trace the lie to its source, though really it would be waste of time, for no one who knows Mary could believe it.”