* * * * * The clear and gentle evening sunlight fell through the long open windows on the bright hair and face of the writer as she rose, slowly folding her letter. Mellow shadows rested in the spacious beautiful chamber; smooth dark walls, painted ceiling and polished floor, rich sombre paintings of fruit made a glowing background for the rounded figure of Miss Chressham as she stood looking thoughtfully at the exquisite vista of parkland that spread beyond the stone terrace on to which the windows gave. Where the distant golden green elms quivered in the steady breeze a few faint white clouds rested in the pale blue sky; the glade formed by the nearer trees was crossed with bars of sunshine where slow sheep moved. Along the terrace grew late spring flowers--tulips, striped, purple, and red; hyacinths, deep blue, and soft clusters of fragrant stocks. A swallow flew by, a great sound of birds came from the trees about the house. Miss Chressham turned from the window to open folding doors that revealed an inner room. "Aunt Agatha," she said. A lady emerged from the gloom of the other chamber. She held a number of knotted skeins of coloured silk. "I thought I heard you moving," smiled Miss Chressham, "so I finished my letter and am now at your service." Her smile deepened prettily. "How charming it will be to see Marius again," she added. Lady Lyndwood smoothed her silks out with delicate fingers. "I wish Rose could have been here," she answered. Miss Chressham was ready. "Marius has been so uncertain as to the date of his arrival, and Rose wrote he was under an engagement for to-night that he could not contrive to avoid. He is coming to-morrow." The elder lady replied with a certain languid impatience attractively in keeping with her slender dignified grace. "Ah, my dear, I hope he _will_ come to-morrow; not only because of Marius--for other reasons! And now you had better call for candles." Miss Chressham pulled the bell. "For other reasons?" she repeated. Lady Lyndwood's answer came wearily through the twilight. "The estate, you know," she complained. "I vow it worries me. Since Mr. Langham left us we have had no steward. I wrote to Rose he must come and see after it; he is aware from Mr. Langham when he gave up his accounts that the value of the land is decreasing, or whatever the term may be." "And what does Rose say?" "Rose laughed, of course, and Mr. Langham----" "Oh--he," cried the girl impatiently, "I know that he sold Brenton Farm at half its value, and the crops, too, always!" "Perhaps so," Lady Lyndwood laughed vaguely, "but one must have someone. Rose should come himself and put a person he can trust into the place, for really I cannot be worried." "We understand so little about it," said Miss Chressham sadly, "and Rose tells us nothing."