They drew up close to the stone porch, open to the night, flush with the level of the out-jutting gables, and the driver, plunging into the black recess, sent the jangle of a bell ringing through inner spaces. In the waiting pause all was very silent, save the stealthy patter from the overgrown ivy clumps that hung across the entrance. There was a rustle, the hop of an awakened bird, quite close to Rosamond’s ear, as she leaned out with the eagerness that had been growing upon her ever since her landing. Then came steps within: the door was opened first but a little space, with the habitual precaution of the lowly caretaker, then suddenly drawn wide. A square of light that seemed golden was cut out of the darkness, and: "You’re welcome, ma’am," cried old Mary, tremulously smoothing her apron. Lady Gerardine passed with fixed eyes and straight steps into the hall, but she turned quickly as the words struck her ear. Aspasia, following, saw her face illumined by a smile that was almost joy. And the girl became secretly a little alarmed; her aunt’s ways had been all inexplicable to her of late. Rosamond’s heart was crying out within her, and it was with actual joy. "Welcome, ma’am," had said his servant—to old Mary the mistress of Saltwoods was Captain English’s widow—even to herself might she not now cease to be Lady Gerardine for a brief respite? Oh, then would the manor-house be home indeed! A great sense of peace, accompanied by a sudden lassitude, fell upon her; she sank into an armchair, flinging her arms wide with a gesture of relief. Opposite to her was a sturdy oaken table, upon which the housekeeper had just placed a hand-lamp. The light fell full upon a rack displaying a hunting-crop, a couple of rough walking-sticks; above, there was the sketch of a boy’s face. Her gaze wandered, without at first taking in the meaning of what it saw. Noise resounded from the porch; it was Jani, struggling with the coachman for the possession of the old regimental case. Rosamond looked quickly up again at the bright living presentment on the wall; then she rose to her feet and staggered blindly through the nearest door. There, in sheltering darkness, Aspasia promptly overtook her, and was terrified, as she clasped her warm young arms round her aunt’s figure, to find it torn by sobs. "Let me be, let me be!" exclaimed Lady Gerardine, pushing the girl from her, "it is good to give way at last." And Aspasia, pressing her face in wordless attempt at consolation against her aunt’s cheek, found it streaming with a very torrent of tears. * * * * * "Ah," said old Mary, shaking her head, as Miss Cuningham presently besought her for the feminine panacea of tea, "poor lady, it’s no wonder: he was a grand young gentleman!" It was, indeed, evident that here Lady Gerardine could never be anything but Captain English’s widow. *CHAPTER II*