“I have that scamp Bampfylde in hand again,” he said; “he is never out of mischief. Have you ever seen that fellow, Geoff? Wild Bampfylde they call him. I think the keepers have a sneaking kindness for him. There is not a poaching trick he is not up to. I am tired of hearing his name.” “What did you say was his name?” said Geoff’s mother. The other Lady Stanton had looked up too with a little start, which attracted Geoff’s attention. He stopped short in the middle of an animated discussion with the girls on the arrangements of the afternoon, to hear what was being said. “Ah! to be sure--Bampfylde; for the moment I had forgotten,” Sir Henry said. “Yes--that family of course, and a handsome fellow; as fine a man as you could see in the north country. Certainly they are a good-looking race.” “I suppose it is gipsy blood,” said the elder Lady Stanton, with a sigh. “Poor people! Yes, I say poor people, Sir Henry, for there is no one to care what evil ways they take. So far out of the way among the hills, no teaching, no clergyman; oh, I make every excuse for them! They will not be judged as we are, with our advantages.” “I don’t know about our advantages,” said Sir Henry, somewhat grimly; “but I sha’n’t make excuses for them. A pest to the country; not to speak of the tragedy they were involved in----” “Oh, don’t let us speak of that,” said Mary, under her breath. Sir Henry gave her a look which irritated young Geoff. The young man felt himself his beautiful cousin’s champion, and he would have liked to call even her husband to account for such a glance under frowning eyebrows at so gentle a creature. Sir Henry for his part did not like his wife to show any signs of recollecting her own past history. He did not do very much to make her forget it, and was a cold and indifferent husband, but still he was affronted that she should be able to remember that she had not always been his wife. “I wish it did not hurt you, Cousin Mary,” said Geoff, interposing, “for I should like to speak of it, to have it all gone into. I am sure there is wrong somewhere. You said yourself about that young Musgrave----” “Oh hush, hush, Geoff!” she said under her breath. “He cannot be young now,” said the elder lady. “I am very sorry for him too, my dear. It is not given to us to see into men’s hearts, but I never believed that John Musgrave---- I beg your pardon, Mary, for naming him before you, of course it must be painful. And to me too. But it is such a long time ago, and I think if it were all to do over again----” “It would have been done over again and the whole case sifted if John Musgrave had not behaved like a fool, or a guilty man,” said Sir Henry. “It is not a pleasant subject for discussion, is it? I was an idiot to bring up the fellow’s name. I forgot what good memories you ladies have,” he said, getting up and breaking up the party. And there was still a frown upon his face as he looked at his wife.