"I saw you coming," he said. "Well, Anthony, and so you are back from your travels, and your father says you have not yet made up your mind what new worlds you shall conquer. I congratulate you. Only, my dear boy, don't make Stokes your prime minister. Leave pottering about amongst leaf-mould and bell-glasses to superannuated old fellows like me. Miss Winifred, I am proud to hear that you are come to see my Farleyense." "Anthony says it is such a fine plant." "It is a fine plant. It might be almost anything," said Anthony. "I told Stokes that if I were he I should treat it differently. I wish he would let me have a turn at it for a fortnight." Mr Mannering gave a quick gasp, and stood still to look at the speaker. "I shall keep the key in my pocket until he is out of the place. Miss Winifred, Miss Marion,--we are old friends,--detain him at the Vicarage, at Hardlands, find some innocent occupation for him which shall not harrow old gentlemen's pet hobbies. Set him to cure Miss Philippa's rheumatism,--I don't wish to be uncharitable, but by her own account it can't be worse than it is, whereas my Farleyense--Good Heavens, I shall not sleep for a week for thinking of the peril it is in." "Of course, there must be a certain amount of risk," said Anthony coolly; "but, after all, the experience gained for others is worth more than the thing itself. That always seems to me the only object in gardening. However, if you don't care about it, sir,--that's enough. I'm going to hunt up the tortoise." "Do, do, by all means. The fellow's shell is thick enough to protect him. This way, Miss Winifred. I hope you don't mind a few steps. You are judicious in your time, for I always think this soft late light is more becoming than any other to the plants. There,--a picture, isn't it? I almost wish Anthony had come down after all." "He is too full of projects to be a safe visitor just at present," said Winifred, shaking her head, but secretly proud in her heart. "I'll defy him to find a finer Farleyense anywhere, at any rate," said Mr Mannering valiantly. He was looking at Winifred as he spoke, and thinking that Thorpe had other pretty things to show Anthony. There was a soft gloom in the house, out of which seemed to spring the delicate green feathery ferns full of still strange life, and Winifred, standing among them, had a sweet light in her eyes and a half-smile on her lips. It was not very often that people agreed she was pretty, and then they were probably thinking of the fresh colouring, the bright hair, and that indescribable fairness of youth which, even without other claim to beauty, carries with it so great a charm; but the true attraction in her face consisted in a certain nobility of expression, of which the delight would but deepen as the more fleeting fairness departed.