Chapter 2

In the month of May, seven years after the flight of the two boys
from Moncrief House, a lady sat in an island of shadow which was
made by a cedar-tree in the midst of a glittering green lawn. She
did well to avoid the sun, for her complexion was as delicately
tinted as mother-of-pearl. She was a small, graceful woman, with
sensitive lips and nostrils, green eyes, with quiet, unarched brows,
and ruddy gold hair, now shaded by a large, untrimmed straw hat. Her
dress of Indian muslin, with half-sleeves terminating at the elbows
in wide ruffles, hardly covered her shoulders, where it was
supplemented by a scarf through which a glimpse of her throat was
visible in a nest of soft Tourkaris lace. She was reading a little
ivory-bound volume--a miniature edition of the second part of
Goethe's "Faust."

As the afternoon wore on and the light mellowed, the lady dropped
her book and began to think and dream, unconscious of a prosaic
black object crossing the lawn towards her. This was a young
gentleman in a frock coat. He was dark, and had a long, grave face,
with a reserved expression, but not ill-looking.

"Going so soon, Lucian?" said the lady, looking up as he came into
the shadow.

Lucian looked at her wistfully. His name, as she uttered it, always
stirred him vaguely. He was fond of finding out the reasons of
things, and had long ago decided that this inward stir was due to
her fine pronunciation. His other intimates called him Looshn.

"Yes," he said. "I have arranged everything, and have come to give
an account of my stewardship, and to say good-bye."

He placed a garden-chair near her and sat down. She laid her hands
one on the other in her lap, and composed herself to listen.

"First," he said, "as to the Warren Lodge. It is let for a month
only; so you can allow Mrs. Goff to have it rent free in July if you
still wish to. I hope you will not act so unwisely."

She smiled, and said, "Who are the present tenants? I hear that they
object to the dairymaids and men crossing the elm vista."

"We must not complain of that. It was expressly stipulated when they
took the lodge that the vista should be kept private for them. I had
no idea at that time that you were coming to the castle, or I should
of course have declined such a condition."

"But we do keep it private for them; strangers are not admitted. Our
people pass and repass once a day on their way to and from the
dairy; that is all."

"It seems churlish, Lydia; but this, it appears, is a special
case--a young gentleman, who has come to recruit his health. He
needs daily exercise in the open air; but he cannot bear