* * * * * Meanwhile Letty and Ancoats pursued their way towards the greenhouses and walled gardens. Letty tripped along, hardly able to keep up with her companion's stride, but chattering fast all the time. At every turn of the view she overflowed with praise and wonder; nor could anything have been at once more enthusiastic or more impertinent than the questions with which she plied him as to his gardeners, his estate, and his affairs, in the intervals of panegyric. Ancoats at first hardly listened to her. A perfunctory "Yes" or "No" seemed to be all that the situation demanded. Then, when he did sufficiently emerge from the tempest of his own thoughts to catch some of the things she was saying, his irritable temper rebelled at once. What had Tressady been about?--ill-bred, tiresome woman! His manner stiffened; he stalked along in front of her, doing his bare host's duty, and warding off her conversation as much as possible; while Letty, on her side, soon felt the familiar chill and mortification creeping over her. Why, she wondered angrily, should he have asked her to walk with him if he could not be a more agreeable companion? Towards the end of the lime-walk they came across Mrs. Allison and Lord Fontenoy. As they passed the older pair the pale mother lifted her eyes to her son with a tremulous smile. But Ancoats made no response, nor had he any greeting for Fontenoy. He carried his companion quickly on, till they found themselves in a wilderness of walled gardens opening one into another, each, as it seemed, more miraculously ordered and more abundantly stocked than its neighbour. "I wonder you know your way," laughed Letty. "And who can possibly consume all this?" "I haven't an idea," said Ancoats, abruptly, as he opened the door of the tenth vinery. "I wish you'd tell me." Letty raised her eyebrows with a little cry of protest. "Oh! but it makes the whole place so magnificent, so complete." "What is there magnificent in having too much?" said Ancoats, shortly. "I believe the day of these huge country places, with all their dull greenhouses and things, is done." Much he cared, indeed, about his gardeners and his grapes! He was in the mood to feel his whole inheritance a burden round his neck. But at the same time to revile his own wealth gave him a pungent sense of playing the artist. "Have you argued that with Lord Fontenoy?" she inquired archly. "I should not take the trouble," he said, with careless hauteur. "Ah!"--Letty's vanity winced under his involuntary accent of relief--"I see your husband and Lady Maxwell."