“Pang—pang—pang—pang—pang—pang—pang—pang!” went the bells, and Sydney smiled in sympathy with that wonderful abandonment of joy which only bells can give. The girl made a charming picture as she stood there on the soft grass, with the mighty trees she loved so well towering in their grandeur overhead, and the sunshine flickering through the leaves upon her white gown and sweet face. She was good to look upon indeed in her dainty gown, with a great bunch of yellow roses at her belt, and that flush upon her cheek and sun of gladness in her eyes. She might have stood for an embodiment of the sweet young summer which was making the world good to dwell in. So at least thought a young man, who, catching through the trees a glimpse of her white dress, had left the road and cut across the Park toward her. As he came near his eyes were fixed upon her earnest face, raised to the glory of sight and sound above. She did not hear his footsteps till he was quite close to her; then she sprang to meet him with a low cry of delight. “Oh, Hugh! have you heard?” “Yes, I heard at Donisbro’ and came straight.” Something new in his voice brought a sudden flush to the delicately tinted face. Her eyes fell before his eager ones. “Come into the gardens,” she said, turning, and the two went wandering together in a strange silence over the cool turf of the bowling green where King Charles I. had once played at his favourite game with a loyal Lisle of old, a Sydney too. The balmy, fragrant air was filled with the clang of bells; beyond the Park they were beginning to cut hay in the long meadows sloping upwards towards the grey-green downs. A great bush, covered with the little yellow roses Sydney wore, smiled up at the two who stood before it. “Pang—pang-pang-pang—pang—pang-pang-pang!” went the bells. “They ring with goodwill,” Hugh said, with a smile. “They are very glad,” said Sydney, “and oh, Hugh, I wonder whether anybody on the whole estate is more glad than I am!” And then Hugh turned and caught her hands and said, with an odd break in his voice, “Syd, are you really?” She looked straight up at him, and he knew that she had spoken truth. “If you are, what must I be!” he cried. “My darling, you don’t know, you can’t know what this means to me!” His voice broke suddenly. “Tell me,” she said. But I think she understood without telling. Later, as the two sat together on the grassy bank bordering the bowling green, the girl said, “Do you know, I think we ought to be grateful to St. Quentin for taking me away from home and all of you. It was very, very hard to give up my brother Hugh, but this is better!” “It is,” Hugh said, with absolute conviction. “Pang—pang-pang-pang—pang-pang-pang-pang!” went the bells, tripping one another up in their haste to clang out the glad tidings of the birth of an heir male to the great St. Quentin title and estates.