"Mrs. Castlemaine is very difficult to please, especially as regards French," he said still smiling; "and the French of some of the ladies who have applied has turned out to be very English French, so they would not suit her. Should you chance to know of any one really eligible, madam, you would be conferring a favour in introducing the lady to the notice of Mrs. Castlemaine." "Sir, I will think of it." He lifted his hat again as he wished her good-day. And Madame Guise, gazing after him, thought again that Heaven was surely working for her, in thus opening a prospect of entrance to the house of Mr. Castlemaine. CHAPTER XV. GETTING IN BY DECEIT. Turning out of the Dolphin Inn, by its front entrance, went Charlotte Guise, in her morning attire. It was a bright afternoon, and the fields were green again. They lay on either side her road--the inland coach road that the stage was wont to traverse. Leaving Mr. Parker's house on her left--for it was in this spot that the doctor's residence was situated--she presently came to the turning to Greylands' Rest, and passed on up the avenue. It was a wide avenue, and not far short of half a mile in length, with trees on either side; oak, elm, birch, larch, poplar, lime, and others. At its end was the gate admitting to the domain of Greylands' Rest. The house lay still and quiet in the sunshine. Madame Guise looked at it with yearning eyes, for it was the place that had probably cost her poor husband his life. But for putting in his claim to it, he might be living yet: and whether that claim was a right or a wrong one, she hoped with her whole heart would be proved before she herself should die. Opening the gate, and passing round the fine green lawn, among the seats, the trees, the shrubs and the flower-beds, she gained the porch entrance. Miles answered her ring at the bell. "Can I see Mrs. Castlemaine?" "Mrs. Castlemaine is out in the carriage, ma'am. Mr. Castlemaine is at home." Hesitating a moment, for the very name of the Master of Greylands carried to the heart of Charlotte Guise a shrinking dread, and yet fearful lest delay might cause her application to be too late, she said she would be glad to speak with Mr. Castlemaine. Miles admitted her into the hall--a good, old-fashioned room, with a wood fire blazing in it. Along a passage to the right lay the drawing-room, and into this room Miles ushered the lady. Mrs. Castlemaine generally went out for a drive once a day. This afternoon she had taken Flora; whose face was adorned with sundry patches of sticking-plaster, the result of the fall off the ladder. In the red parlour sat Ethel Reene, painting flowers on cardboard for a hand-screen: and the Master of Greylands stood with his back to the fire, talking with her. They were speaking of Miss Castlemaine. "Papa, I do not think we must hope it," Ethel was saying. "Rely upon it, Mary will not come out again."