"Oh yes! but very mild stories, I'm afraid, not even equal to the average shilling shocker. Errington Hall has no history which would delight novelists or antiquaries. Queen Elizabeth didn't stop here on a royal progress, Oliver Cromwell's Ironsides didn't besiege the place, and though I think the Hanoverian Erringtons were mixed up in Jacobite plots they hid neither Prince James nor Prince Charlie. We are a very prosaic lot, my dear, and although the whole house is romantic enough in appearance, there isn't a story about it that would frighten a five-year-old child." By this time they were on the terrace in the pale November sunlight, and could see below the smooth green lawn surrounding the house, girdled by the ancient trees of the park, which were now shedding their leaves for winter time. The carriage drive swept round the front of the terrace in a graceful curve, and then disappeared into the green wood, while beyond the tops of the trees appeared the grey square tower of Denfield Church, sombre against the dull sky. Some pigeons, white as milk, were whirling aloft in the moist air, and the sun, invisible behind the grey clouds, diffused a pale chilly radiance, which made Alizon long for the blue skies and burning heat of Italy. "Come inside, Alizon," said Sir Guy, seeing his wife shivering, "this is cold after the South, and you'd better lie down for a time after luncheon, as I daresay for the next week or two you'll have quite enough to do in receiving our neighbours." What Guy said was true enough, and for the next few weeks Alizon had as much as she could do in receiving the county magnates, all eager to see Lady Errington, of whom they had heard much, but of whose father they had heard still more. Despite Sir Guy's lack of ready money the Errington estates were very large, the Errington position a very high one in the county, and many a daughter of the Shires would have been pleased to have become the mistress of Errington Hall, particularly as its master, young, handsome and debonnaire, was favourite enough with the gentle sex independently of his rank and position. When, however, it came to be known that this eligible bachelor had married Alizon Mostyn, the county, at least the female part of it, felt vexed that an outsider should have carried off the matrimonial prize, and the provincial belles felt none too well disposed towards the young wife, although they masked their real feelings under many sweet smiles and smooth words.