"Somerville had been bought, together with all the old pictures, tapestries, and furniture which had belonged to my husband’s family, so that I was spared the expense of furnishing a large house. But there were, nevertheless, opportunities for extravagance open even in this direction, to say nothing of dress and jewellery, so that the days passed pleasantly. "It was not till May that I first saw my new home, and even then I left London with regret. My father had gone down two or three times to see that everything was in order. Servants had been engaged, and the place was quite comfortable when we arrived. "Somerville is a fine old house, but unfortunately the man who had decided upon the position chose it with more regard to appearance than health. In the park around, which covers about a thousand acres, there are hundreds of what modern builders would call ’eligible and imposing sites,’ yet this perverse man placed his building in a hollow, surrounded on three sides by rising ground, opening only to the south. The slopes are covered with magnificent trees; a stream rushes down behind the building and falls over a beautiful waterfall into a lake. This expanse of water, the foliage and enclosing hills, make the situation relaxing, and in summer time the air is very oppressive. "I was, however, at first much too delighted with the place to think of these defects. We arrived on a beautiful evening, bright, yet cool; the sunset made a lovely background for the trees. Through gaps in the dark foliage the red light fell in patterns on the moss-covered stone roofing of the house, or was reflected from the surface of the lake. The birds were singing gaily, their song mingling pleasantly with the sound of falling water. There had been heavy rain, and the air was full of the sweet, yet bitter, smell of earth, decaying leaves, and spring flowers. "The house, which had been built during the reign of Charles I., was a long, low, stone building, with mullioned windows. It gave the idea of being larger than it really was, but owing to its moderate proportions, the rooms were very comfortable. There was little oak to be seen in the house, the panelling and furniture throughout being of mahogany, which was nearly black with age. The walls were covered with tapestry, pictures, armour, and many relics of bygone sport. "While looking round I thought of my husband, and tried to picture him as a child playing in the old rooms. For a moment I wished that he were there and could tell me the stories connected with some of the relics. "’Father,’ I said, ’we shall, after all, have to ask Vancome down, if only to learn something about my new family history.’ "A look of annoyance passed over my father’s face, and he answered crossly--