He was wrong, for that chapter of his life had just opened. CHAPTER XI. A MAIDEN LADY. "Severe, sedate, and highly bred, Sad-tinted gown and cap on head. In high-backed chair she grimly sits, And frowns, and fumes, and talks, and knits, Her nephews, nieces, tremble still, Whene'er she talks about her will, And wonder oft in glad surmise What they will get at her demise. No King upon his throne in State Was ever such a potentate. Let others face her eye--I can't, I quail before my maiden aunt." Few people are acquainted with Delphson Square, no doubt from the fact that it lies on the extreme edge of the great vortex of London life, isolated in a great measure by its position and character. Those concerned with business or pleasure know not this severely respectable neighbourhood, but occasionally men and women, weary of the restless excitability of the metropolis, glance off from the huge central whirl, and drift helplessly into this haven of rest in order to spend the rest of their days in peace. Not a tempting place certainly, with its four sides of forbidding-looking houses painted a dull brown, with grim iron balconies attached to each window like prison gratings. No bright flowers in oblong boxes to lighten the austerity of these conventual retreats, flowers being regarded as frivolous by the utilitarian inhabitants of the square. Spotless white blinds, heavy dark-red curtains, occasionally a cage in some glaring window, containing a depressed-looking canary, irreproachable white steps, exasperatingly bright brass knockers on massive doors; these were the principal adornment of the four rows of dwellings. In the centre of the small quadrangle grew a quincunx of heavy-foliaged elms, encircled by a spiky iron fence of defiant appearance, and under one of the trees a weather-stained statue of some dead and gone warrior, with a suitable inscription in choice Latin, which no one could read. Over all this prim locality an air of Sabbath quiet. The doors of the houses always seemed to be closed. Rarely were any signs of life seen behind the half screens of the windows, the well-swept streets were empty both of traffic and pedestrians, and viewed under a dull, leaden-coloured London sky, with a humid feeling in the air, Delphson Square looked like some deserted city waiting to be re-peopled. As to the inhabitants, they mostly resembled their dwellings, being elderly, grim, and forbidding, dressed in the plainest puritanical fashion, yet one and all stamped with the impress of wealth.