As she stood in the sunshine, with her arm raised to secure the truant branch of the trailing rose, waiting for her brother to bring the nail, a figure cast a shadow against the porch, and, turning her head, she saw a gentleman standing near her. Instantly she dropped the branch, and, with a bright colour in her cheek, waited till the stranger spoke. "Miss Falconer, I think?" he said, his eyes fastening upon her fair young face. "Yes," she said, simply. "Do you want to see my mother?" "Nay," he said, "I came to see _you_. I have heard much of you; I am your brother's friend." Joyce looked inquiringly at her visitor, and said, with a little quiver in her voice: "I hope, sir, you have brought no ill news. We have had so much sorrow of late." "I know it, indeed," the gentleman said. "I bring no bad news of your brother's health; he is abroad, I think." "Yes, at Genoa; he was at Genoa when we heard last; we have not heard from him since our father's death." "Ah! that was a sad loss for him and for you all. What a lovely place you have here, but very far removed from 'the world'--the world where you would shine as a bright star of beauty." This broad flattery was received very differently from what the speaker expected. Joyce's face underwent an instant change, as she said: "I think, sir, if you please, I must ask you to excuse me, for I have some things which are needing my attention this morning; perhaps," fearing she might seem deficient in courtesy, "you would like to rest a little while." "You are very kind, fair lady; I will accept your offer, I shall be glad to rest. What a noble hall!" he exclaimed, as he stepped across the threshold, where Piers was leaning against the old oak table, his crutches under his arm. "Piers," Joyce said, "this gentleman wishes to rest; will you ask Sarah to fetch him some refreshment?" She was thus dismissing the guest to the care of her brother, glad to escape from his prolonged and embarrassing scrutiny of her face, when Lord Maythorne said: "Pardon me, I want to speak to you on a serious matter. I ought to have introduced myself earlier. I am Lord Maythorne; you will have heard of me?" "Yes," Joyce said, calmly; "yes, I have heard of you." "No good report, I will venture to affirm, guessing, as I do with some certainty, from whom the report came. If you tell that little boy--lame, I see, poor fellow!--to leave us, I will briefly relate the circumstances of my friendship with your brother. Come, Miss Falconer, do not be unjust to me, but hear what I have to say. I prefer that our conversation should be private; it is of great importance that you should hear what I have to say, _alone_." Joyce hesitated; that instinctive dread of men who are neither honourable nor good, which all pure-minded maidens feel, made Joyce shrink back from the very touch of Lord Maythorne's hand, as he tried to take hers, with a gesture of profound reverence and raise it to his lips.