‘Rafe,’ she said, ‘can you amuse yourself till noon? Rachel writes my letters and manages everything for me, so I must take her away. Mary, make your cousin’s stay here as pleasant as you can: show him all over the house and gardens--or anywhere so long as he’s entertained. If you care to ride order the ponies.’ But Mary, as soon as we were alone, led me to the open window. A flight of stairs descended from here to an old garden where busts and urns surmounted columns of fluted marble. A spring, prattling over many-hued stones, crossed the middle of this and deepened into shallow pools that were edged with irises and flowering rushes. ‘Let us sit beside the dragon at the well-head,’ she said; ‘it is my favourite dreaming-place, and I will ask you all I want to know. I am not tiresome to you, Cousin Rafe?’ she added, with downcast eyes. Our spirits rose. Ere long I was chasing her up and down the maze, quite forgetful of the gravity of seventeen, and attempting at each corner to grasp her flying skirts, but ever failing intentionally, out of compliment to her lightness of foot. Her paleness had quite disappeared, and as she laughed at me through the legs of the yew peacocks, she looked like a young nymph. She began to sing hurriedly, in a silvery voice, in imitation of some gaffer:-- ‘When first I went a-waggonin’, a-waggonin’ did go, I filled my pairients’ hearts full of sorra’, grief, an’ woe; And many are the hardships that I ha’ since gone thro’. So sing wo, my lads, sing wo. Drive on, my lads, Yo-ho! For ye canna drive a waggon when the horses wunna go.’ Every word came clear and distinct. Scarcely, however, had she begun the second verse than the sound of an approaching vehicle silenced her. We looked down the avenue, and beheld a trap drawn by a bony white horse. It drew up near us. A familiar voice accosted me: ‘Master Ralph.’ To my surprise it was old Jeffreys, very haggard, and with eyes more sad than reproachful. ‘O Master Ralph,’ he said, ‘come back at once, for God’s sake! There’s just time enough to catch the boat, if you don’t linger a moment. Word came this morning that my poor master was dying.’ His voice broke into sobs. Turning hastily to the child who stood aghast at my side, I gave her one quick kiss, and then sprang up to the seat, forgetful of all save the great catastrophe. CHAPTER II When I reached home it was to find my father dead. Had I arrived an hour sooner I should have had the gratification of holding his hand in mine during the parting moments, and have heard his last words. But my act of disobedience had prevented this, and by my secret visit to Furnivaux I had lost what would have been one of the dearest recollections of my life. He had died thinking of me, and as the last struggle began had stammered out that I was to yield myself entirely to the written instructions contained in the secret drawer of his writing-desk, and intended for my eyes alone.