A certain stir and bustle in the court without gave token that the sale was about to begin; and Scanlan's voice, in its most authoritative tone, was heard issuing orders and directions on all sides, while servants went hither and thither distributing catalogues, and securing accommodation for the visitors with a degree of deference and attention most remarkable. “I suppose we're to pass the day in the stables or the cowhouses, ma'am?” said Mrs. Clinch, as with a look of indignation she gazed at the range of seats now being hastily occupied by a miscellaneous company. “If we could only get into the gardens,” said Mrs. Nelligan, timidly. “I'm sure if I saw Barnes he'd let us in.” And she slipped rapidly from her friend's arm, and hastily crossing the court, went in search of her only acquaintance in the household. “Did you see Barnes? Where could I find Barnes?” asked she of almost every one she met. And following the complicated directions she received, she wandered onward, through a kitchen-garden, and into a small nursery beyond it. Bewildered as she receded beyond the sounds of the multitude, she turned into a little path which, traversing a shrubbery, opened upon a beautifully cultivated “parterre,” whose close-shaven sward and flowery beds flanked a long range of windows opening to the ground, and which, to her no small horror, she perceived to form one wing of the mansion. While in her distraction to think what course was best to take, she saw a groom standing at the head of a small pony, harnessed to a diminutive carriage, and hastily approached him. Before, however, she had attained within speaking distance, the man motioned to her, by a gesture, to retire. Her embarrassment gave her, if not courage, something of resolution, and she advanced. “Go back!” cried he, in a smothered voice; “there 's no one admitted here.” “But I 've lost my way. I was looking for Barnes--” “He's not here. Go back, I say,” reiterated the man, in the same stealthy voice. But poor Mrs. Nelligan, came on, confusion rendering her indifferent to all reproof, and in spite of gestures and admonitions to retire, steadily advanced towards the door. As she passed one of the open windows, her glance caught something within; she stopped suddenly, and, in seeming shame at her intrusion, turned to go back. A muttered malediction from the servant increased her terror, and she uttered a faint cry. In an instant the object at which she had been gazing arose, and Mary Martin, her face traced with recent tears, started up and approached her. Mrs. Nelligan felt a sense of sickly faintness come over her, and had to grasp the window for support. “Oh, my dear young lady!” she muttered, “I did n't mean to do this--I strayed here by accident--I didn't know where I was going--”