"That is strange," and Mrs. Snow really did look puzzled; "she knew all about you." Beatrice started. "What is there to know about me?" "Oh, nothing--really and truly nothing. Only that Mr. Alpenny married your mother and adopted you when she died. I was not here when Mrs. Alpenny died, but I believe she is buried in our churchyard." "I have seen the tombstone," said Beatrice coldly. "And how does this Lady Watson come to know about me?" "She was a school friend of your mother's--so she said." "Oh!" Beatrice felt her face flush. Here was a chance of learning something that neither Durban nor Alpenny would tell her. "I should like to meet Lady Watson." "You shall, my dear Miss Hedge. She is coming in a few weeks to stop at the Vicarage." "I shall be happy to see her." Beatrice had to swallow her pride before she could say this, as Mrs. Snow had really treated her very badly. But she was anxious to learn something of her mother, and to find out if she had any relatives, as she was determined not to marry Ruck, and knew that if she did not, Alpenny was quite capable of turning her out of doors. Of course Durban would always look after her, but Beatrice wished to be independent even of Durban. At the moment she never thought of Vivian and his hasty proposal, but it came back to her memory when Mrs. Snow introduced his name. "I hear that Mr. Paslow is thinking of moving from this place," said Mrs. Snow. "Such a pity! so old a family. The Paslows have been in the Grange since the reign of Henry VIII. It was originally a convent, you know, and the Paslow of those days was presented with it, by the king--so shocking, wasn't it? He turned out the nuns and lived in the place himself. That is why it is called Convent Grange." "So Miss Paslow told me," responded Beatrice, rather weary of this small-talk, and wondering why it was being manufactured. "But Mr. Paslow is poor," pursued Mrs. Snow, "and can't keep the place up. I expect he'll go to the colonies, or some such place. So you can easily see why I don't want my son to marry his sister." Beatrice felt very much inclined to tell her garrulous visitor that Vivian had inherited money, and would probably clear off the mortgages and live in the style of his forefathers. But she restrained her inclination, as it was none of her business, and rose to intimate that the interview was at an end. But Mrs. Snow still sat on. "Really a lovely place, Convent Grange," she chattered, "although sadly out of repair. Haunted, too, they say, although I don't believe in ghosts myself. But I hear an Indian colonel was murdered there some twenty-four years ago, and his ghost is said to haunt the room he was killed in." "I never heard that," said Beatrice, wondering why Dinah had never imparted so comparatively modern a tragedy to her.