"I suppose she is some old family servant." "No. She came here about ten years ago. I wanted a housekeeper, she heard of it, and applied. She brought excellent recommendations, and I took her. She has done very well." "Have you ever noticed how very singular her appearance is?" "Well, no. Is it? I suppose it strikes you so as a stranger. I never noticed her particularly." "She seems to have had some great sorrow," said the General, slowly. "Yes, I think she must have had some troubles. She has a melancholy way, I think. I feel sorry for the poor creature, and do what I can for her. As I said, she is invaluable to me, and I owe her positive gratitude." "Is she fond of Guy?" asked the General, thinking of her face as he saw it upturned toward the portrait. "Exceedingly," said Lord Chetwynde. "Guy was about eight years old when she came. From the very first she showed the greatest fondness for him, and attached herself to him with a devotion which surprised me. I accounted for it on the ground that she had lost a son of her own, and perhaps Guy reminded her in some way of him. At any rate she has always been exceedingly fond of him. Yes," pursued Lord Chetwynde, in a musing tone, "I owe every thing to her, for she once saved Guy's life." "Saved his life? How?" "Once, when I was away, the place caught fire in the wing where Guy was sleeping. Mrs. Hart rushed through the flames and saved him. She nearly killed herself too--poor old thing! In addition to this she has nursed him through three different attacks of disease that seemed fatal. Why, she seems to love Guy as fondly as I do." "And does Guy love her?" "Exceedingly. The boy is most affectionate by nature, and of course she is prominent in his affections. Next to me he loves her." The General now turned away the conversation to other subjects; but from his abstracted manner it was evident that Mrs. Hart was still foremost in his thoughts. CHAPTER III. THE BARTER OF A LIFE. Two evenings afterward a carriage drove up to the door of Chetwynde Castle, and a young man alighted. The door was opened by the old butler, who, with a cry of delight, exclaimed: "Master Guy! Master Guy! It's welcome ye are. They've been lookin' for you these two hours back." "Any thing wrong?" was Guy's first exclamation, uttered with some haste and anxiety. "Lord love ye, there's naught amiss; but ye're welcome home, right welcome, Master Guy," said the butler, who still looked upon his young master as the little boy who used to ride upon his back, and whose tricks were at once the torment and delight of his life.