In the middle of a vegetable marrow warren stood the well—a well of eight feet in diameter, surrounded by a low brick wall, of that same bright red brick which crumbled behind the blue gages and the egg-plums, and which the birds pecked and perforated, for very wantonness. It was a well of the old pattern, with a ponderous wooden roller, and an iron spindle, which had wound up water from those same cool depths for over a hundred years. It had run dry often, in the time of the Strangways, that good old well; but no Strangway had ever thought of improving anything upon the estate; so in seasons of drought the flowers had drooped and the turf had withered unheeded by the proprietorial eye. Mr. Gadby’s men appeared after their dinner, and got seriously to work by about three o’clock, at which hour Theodore and Lady Cheriton were strolling in the rose garden, while the master of the house sat in the library reading. Theodore had observed a marked change in his cousin since his last visit to the Chase. There was a worried look in Lord Cheriton’s face which had not been there even after the shock of the murder, a look of nervous apprehension which showed itself from time to time in a countenance where firmness of character and an absolute fearlessness had been hitherto the strongest characteristics. He had not yet told his lordship the result of his interview with Mercy Porter. He had waited till an opportunity for quiet, confidential talk should come about naturally, and that opportunity now occurred. Lady Cheriton left him after half an hour’s review of the roses, and he went through the open window into the library where Lord Cheriton sat in his large arm-chair at his own particular table, reading the political summing-up in the last _Quarterly_. “Shall I be disturbing you if I sit here?” asked Theodore, taking a volume from the table where the newest books were always to be found. “On the contrary, I shall be very glad of a little conversation. I have been struggling through an analysis of last session, which is all weariness and vexation of spirit. The session was dull, the commentary is duller. I am anxious to know how you got on with Mrs. Porter’s daughter.” “Very badly, I regret to say, from our point of view. She rejects your generous offer. She prefers her present hard life, with its independence. She will accept no obligation from any one.” “Humph! She must be a curious young woman,” said Lord Cheriton, with a vexed air. “I should have liked very much to have made her life bright and easy, if she would have let me—for her father’s sake. On what ground did she refuse my offer?” “On the ground of preferring to work for her living, and to live a hard life. She has taken that upon herself, I believe, as an expiation for her past errors, although she did not say that in so many words. She is wonderfully firm. I never saw such a resolute temper in so young—and so gentle-mannered—a woman.”