Old Mr Brooke loved Annie. She was all he possessed in the world. He had never married, and when his only brother, on dying, had left the child to his care, he had vowed to be a father to her, to bring her up well, and to do the best he could for her. Annie was the child of an English father and an Italian mother. In appearance she had taken in every respect after her father's race, being fair, with all the attributes of the Saxon, but in her nature she had some of the craftiness which distinguishes the Italian. Hers was a difficult nature to fathom, and to a very high-minded man like the Rev Maurice Brooke she was a problem he could never solve. For a couple of years past he had owned himself puzzled by Annie. When she was a little child she delighted him; but more and more, as she returned from school for each holiday, he felt that there was something behind. She was frank with him; she grumbled quite openly in his presence. These things he did not mind, but he was sure there was something behind the grumbling, and that fact puzzled and distressed him. Still, he looked forward to the weeks which Annie spent at Rashleigh Rectory as the golden periods of his life. All the little pleasures and indulgences were kept for this time. "When my niece comes back we'll do so-and-so," was his favourite remark. "When Annie comes, Mrs Shelf, we must have that new tarpaulin put down; and don't you think her room ought to be repapered and painted for her? Girls like pretty things, don't they?" But Mrs Shelf read Annie's nature far more correctly than did her old uncle. "If I were you, Mr Brooke," she said, "I wouldn't spend money on that girl until I knew what she was after. Maybe she won't take to the room when it's painted and papered." "Won't take to it?" he replied. "But naturally she'll take to it, Mrs Shelf, for it will be her own room, where, please God, she will sleep for many long years, until, indeed, she finds another home of her own." Mrs Shelf was silent when the rector said these things. But, somehow, the room was not papered, nor was the old paint renewed; and Annie failed to notice these facts. "Well, my little girl," he said on the present occasion, as they both sat down to supper in a small room which opened out of the study, "it's a sight for sair een to see you back again; and well you look, Annie-- well and bonny." He looked at her admiringly. She was not at all a beautiful girl, but she was beautiful to him. "You have a look of my brother Geoffrey," he said. "Ah, Geoffrey, dear fellow, was remarkably good-looking. Not that looks signify much, Annie; we ought never to set store by them. It is the beauty of the mind we ought to cultivate, my love." "Well," said Annie, "I'd like to be handsome. I don't see, for my part, why I should not have both. What do you think, uncle?"