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"I dare say I have left it in the library, along with my other keys,"
said Mr. Vanstone. "Go and look for it, my dear."

"You really should check Magdalen," pleaded Mrs. Vanstone, addressing
her husband when her daughter had left the room. "Those habits of
mimicry are growing on her; and she speaks to you with a levity which it
is positively shocking to hear."

"Exactly what I have said myself, till I am tired of repeating it,"
remarked Miss Garth. "She treats Mr. Vanstone as if he was a kind of
younger brother of hers."

"You are kind to us in everything else, papa; and you make kind
allowances for Magdalen's high spirits--don't you?" said the quiet
Norah, taking her father's part and her sister's with so little show
of resolution on the surface that few observers would have been sharp
enough to detect the genuine substance beneath it.

"Thank you, my dear," said good-natured Mr. Vanstone. "Thank you for a
very pretty speech. As for Magdalen," he continued, addressing his wife
and Miss Garth, "she's an unbroken filly. Let her caper and kick in the
paddock to her heart's content. Time enough to break her to harness when
she gets a little older."

The door opened, and Magdalen returned with the key. She unlocked the
post-bag at the sideboard and poured out the letters in a heap. Sorting
them gayly in less than a minute, she approached the breakfast-table
with both hands full, and delivered the letters all round with the
business-like rapidity of a London postman.

"Two for Norah," she announced, beginning with her sister. "Three for
Miss Garth. None for mamma. One for me. And the other six all for papa.
You lazy old darling, you hate answering letters, don't you?" pursued
Magdalen, dropping the postman's character and assuming the daughter's.
"How you will grumble and fidget in the study! and how you will wish
there were no such things as letters in the world! and how red your nice
old bald head will get at the top with the worry of writing the answers;
and how many of the answers you will leave until tomorrow after all!
_The Bristol Theater's open, papa,_" she whispered, slyly and suddenly,
in her father's ear; "I saw it in the newspaper when I went to the
library to get the key. Let's go to-morrow night!"

While his daughter was chattering, Mr. Vanstone was mechanically sorting
his letters. He turned over the first four in succession and looked
carelessly at the addresses. When he came to the fifth his attention,
which had hitherto wandered toward Magdalen, suddenly became fixed on
the post-mark of the letter.

Stooping over him, with her head on his shoulder, Magdalen could see the
post-mark as plainly as her father saw it--NEW ORLEANS.

"An American letter, papa!" she said. "Who do you know at New Orleans?"

Mrs. Vanstone started, and looked eagerly at her husband the moment
Magdalen spoke those words.

Mr. Vanstone said nothing. He quietly removed his daughter's arm
from his neck, as if he wished to be free from all interruption. She
returned, accordingly, to her place at the breakfast-table. Her father,
with the letter in his hand, waited a little before he opened it; her
mother looking at him, the while, with an eager, expectant attention
which attracted Miss Garth's notice, and Norah's, as well as Magdalen's.

After a minute or more of hesitation Mr. Vanstone opened the letter.

His face changed color the instant he read the first lines; his cheeks
fading to a dull, yellow-brown hue, which would have been ashy
paleness in a less florid man; and his expression becoming saddened and
overclouded in a moment. Norah and Magdalen, watching anxiously, saw
nothing but the change that passed over their father. Miss Garth alone
observed the effect which that change produced on the attentive mistress
of the house.

It was not the effect which she, or any one, could have anticipated.
Mrs. Vanstone looked excited rather than alarmed. A faint flush rose on
her cheeks--her eyes brightened--she stirred the tea round and round in
her cup in a restless, impatient manner which was not natural to her.

Magdalen, in her capacity of spoiled child, was, as usual, the first to
break the silence.

"What _is_ the matter, papa?" she asked.

"Nothing," said Mr. Vanstone, sharply, without looking up at her.

"I'm sure there must be something," persisted Magdalen. "I'm sure there
is bad news, papa, in that American letter."

"There is nothing in the letter that concerns _you_," said Mr. Vanstone.

It was the first direct rebuff that Magdalen had ever received from her
father. She looked at him with an incredulous surprise, which would have
been irresistibly absurd under less serious circumstances.

Nothing more was said. For the first time, perhaps, in their lives, the
family sat round the breakfast-table in painful silence. Mr. Vanstone's
hearty morning appetite, like his hearty morning spirits, was gone. He
absently broke off some morsels of dry toast from the rack near him,
absently finished his first cup of tea--then asked for a second, which
he left before him untouched.

"Norah," he said, after an interval, "you needn't wait for me. Magdalen,
my dear, you can go when you like."

His daughters rose immediately; and Miss Garth considerately followed
their example. When an easy-tempered man does assert himself in his
family, the rarity of the demonstration invariably has its effect; and
the will of that easy-tempered man is Law.

"What can have happened?" whispered Norah, as they closed the
breakfast-room door and crossed the hall.

"What does papa mean by being cross with Me?" exclaimed Magdalen,
chafing under a sense of her own injuries.

"May I ask--what right you had to pry into your father's private
affairs?" retorted Miss Garth.

"Right?" repeated Magdalen. "I have no secrets from papa--what business
has papa to have secrets from me! I consider myself insulted."

"If you considered yourself properly reproved for not minding your own
business," said the plain-spoken Miss Garth, "you would be a trifle
nearer the truth. Ah! you are like all the rest of the girls in the
present day. Not one in a hundred of you knows which end of her's
uppermost."

The three ladies entered the morning-room; and Magdalen acknowledged
Miss Garth's reproof by banging the door.

Half an hour passed, and neither Mr. Vanstone nor his wife left the
breakfast-room. The servant, ignorant of what had happened, went in to
clear the table--found his master and mistress seated close together in
deep consultation--and immediately went out again. Another quarter of an
hour elapsed before the breakfast-room door was opened, and the private
conference of the husband and wife came to an end.

"I hear mamma in the hall," said Norah. "Perhaps she is coming to tell
us something."

Mrs. Vanstone entered the morning-room as her daughter spoke. The
color was deeper on her cheeks, and the brightness of half-dried tears
glistened in her eyes; her step was more hasty, all her movements were
quicker than usual.

"I bring news, my dears, which will surprise you," she said, addressing
her daughters. "Your father and I are going to London to-morrow."

Magdalen caught her mother by the arm in speechless astonishment. Miss
Garth dropped her work on her lap; even the sedate Norah started to her
feet, and amazedly repeated the words, "Going to London!"

"Without us?" added Magdalen.

"Your father and I are going alone," said Mrs. Vanstone. "Perhaps,
for as long as three weeks--but not longer. We are going"--she
hesitated--"we are going on important family business. Don't hold
me, Magdalen. This is a sudden necessity--I have a great deal to do
to-day--many things to set in order before tomorrow. There, there, my
love, let me go."

She drew her arm away; hastily kissed her youngest daughter on the
forehead; and at once left the room again. Even Magdalen saw that
her mother was not to be coaxed into hearing or answering any more
questions.

The morning wore on, and nothing was seen of Mr. Vanstone. With the
reckless curiosity of her age and character, Magdalen, in defiance of
Miss Garth's prohibition and her sister's remonstrances, determined to
go to the study and look for her father there. When she tried the door,
it was locked on the inside. She said, "It's only me, papa;" and waited
for the answer. "I'm busy now, my dear," was the answer. "Don't disturb
me."

Mrs. Vanstone was, in another way, equally inaccessible. She remained
in her own room, with the female servants about her, immersed in endless
preparations for the approaching departure. The servants, little used
in that family to sudden resolutions and unexpected orders, were
awkward and confused in obeying directions. They ran from room to room
unnecessarily, and lost time and patience in jostling each other on
the stairs. If a stranger had entered the house that day, he might have
imagined that an unexpected disaster had happened in it, instead of an
unexpected necessity for a journey to London. Nothing proceeded in its
ordinary routine. Magdalen, who was accustomed to pass the morning at
the piano, wandered restlessly about the staircases and passages, and in
and out of doors when there were glimpses of fine weather. Norah, whose
fondness for reading had passed into a family proverb, took up book
after book from table and shelf, and laid them down again, in despair of
fixing her attention. Even Miss Garth felt the all-pervading influence
of the household disorganization, and sat alone by the morning-room
fire, with her head shaking ominously, and her work laid aside.

"Family affairs?" thought Miss Garth, pondering over Mrs. Vanstone's
vague explanatory words. "I have lived twelve years at Combe-Raven; and
these are the first family affairs which have got between the parents
and the children, in all my experience. What does it mean? Change? I
suppose I'm getting old. I don't like change."



CHAPTER II.

AT ten o'clock the next morning Norah and Magdalen stood alone in the
hall at Combe-Raven watching the departure of the carriage which took
their father and mother to the London train.

Up to the last moment, both the sisters had hoped for some explanation
of that mysterious "family business" to which Mrs. Vanstone had so
briefly alluded on the previous day. No such explanation had been
offered. Even the agitation of the leave-taking, under circumstances
entirely new in the home experience of the parents and children, had
not shaken the resolute discretion of Mr. and Mrs. Vanstone. They had
gone--with the warmest testimonies of affection, with farewell embraces
fervently reiterated again and again--but without dropping one word,
from first to last, of the nature of their errand.

As the grating sound of the carriage-wheels ceased suddenly at a turn in
the road, the sisters looked one another in the face; each feeling,
and each betraying in her own way, the dreary sense that she was openly
excluded, for the first time, from the confidence of her parents.
Norah's customary reserve strengthened into sullen silence--she sat down
in one of the hall chairs and looked out frowningly through the open
house door. Magdalen, as usual when her temper was ruffled, expressed
her dissatisfaction in the plainest terms. "I don't care who knows it--I
think we are both of us shamefully ill-used!" With those words, the
young lady followed her sister's example by seating herself on a hall
chair and looking aimlessly out through the open house door.

Almost at the same moment Miss Garth entered the hall from the
morning-room. Her quick observation showed her the necessity for
interfering to some practical purpose; and her ready good sense at once
pointed the way.

"Look up, both of you, if you please, and listen to me," said Miss
Garth. "If we are all three to be comfortable and happy together, now
we are alone, we must stick to our usual habits and go on in our
regular way. There is the state of things in plain words. Accept the
situation--as the French say. Here am I to set you the example. I have
just ordered an excellent dinner at the customary hour. I am going to
the medicine-chest next, to physic the kitchen-maid--an unwholesome
girl, whose face-ache is all stomach. In the meantime, Norah, my dear,
you will find your work and your books, as usual, in the library.
Magdalen, suppose you leave off tying your handkerchief into knots and
use your fingers on the keys of the piano instead? We'll lunch at one,
and take the dogs out afterward. Be as brisk and cheerful both of you as
I am. Come, rouse up directly. If I see those gloomy faces any longer,
as sure as my name's Garth, I'll give your mother written warning and go
back to my friends by the mixed train at twelve forty."

Concluding her address of expostulation in those terms, Miss Garth led
Norah to the library door, pushed Magdalen into the morning-room, and
went on her own way sternly to the regions of the medicine-chest.

In this half-jesting, half-earnest manner she was accustomed to maintain
a sort of friendly authority over Mr. Vanstone's daughters, after her
proper functions as governess had necessarily come to an end. Norah, it
is needless to say, had long since ceased to be her pupil; and Magdalen
had, by this time, completed her education. But Miss Garth had lived too
long and too intimately under Mr. Vanstone's roof to be parted with for
any purely formal considerations; and the first hint at going away which
she had thought it her duty to drop was dismissed with such affectionate
warmth of protest that she never repeated it again, except in jest. The
entire management of the household was, from that time forth, left in
her hands; and to those duties she was free to add what companionable
assistance she could render to Norah's reading, and what friendly
superintendence she could still exercise over Magdalen's music. Such
were the terms on which Miss Garth was now a resident in Mr. Vanstone's
family.

Toward the afternoon the weather improved. At half-past one the sun
was shining brightly; and the ladies left the house, accompanied by the
dogs, to set forth on their walk.

They crossed the stream, and ascended by the little rocky pass to the
hills beyond; then diverged to the left, and returned by a cross-road
which led through the village of Combe-Raven.

As they came in sight of the first cottages, they passed a man, hanging
about the road, who looked attentively, first at Magdalen, then at
Norah. They merely observed that he was short, that he was dressed in
black, and that he was a total stranger to them--and continued their
homeward walk, without thinking more about the loitering foot-passenger
whom they had met on their way back.

After they had left the village, and had entered the road which led
straight to the house, Magdalen surprised Miss Garth by announcing that
the stranger in black had turned, after they had passed him, and was
now following them. "He keeps on Norah's side of the road," she said,
mischievously. "I'm not the attraction--don't blame _me_."

Whether the man was really following them, or not, made little
difference, for they were now close to the house. As they passed through
the lodge-gates, Miss Garth looked round, and saw that the stranger
was quickening his pace, apparently with the purpose of entering into
conversation. Seeing this, she at once directed the young ladies to go
on to the house with the dogs, while she herself waited for events at
the gate.

There was just time to complete this discreet arrangement, before the
stranger reached the lodge. He took off his hat to Miss Garth politely,
as she turned round. What did he look like, on the face of him? He
looked like a clergyman in difficulties.

Taking his portrait, from top to toe, the picture of him began with a
tall hat, broadly encircled by a mourning band of crumpled crape. Below
the hat was a lean, long, sallow face, deeply pitted with the smallpox,
and characterized, very remarkably, by eyes of two different colors--one
bilious green, one bilious brown, both sharply intelligent. His hair was
iron-gray, carefully brushed round at the temples. His cheeks and chin
were in the bluest bloom of smooth shaving; his nose was short Roman;
his lips long, thin, and supple, curled up at the corners with a
mildly-humorous smile. His white cravat was high, stiff, and dingy;
the collar, higher, stiffer, and dingier, projected its rigid points on
either side beyond his chin. Lower down, the lithe little figure of the
man was arrayed throughout in sober-shabby black. His frock-coat was
buttoned tight round the waist, and left to bulge open majestically at
the chest. His hands were covered with black cotton gloves neatly
darned at the fingers; his umbrella, worn down at the ferule to the last
quarter of an inch, was carefully preserved, nevertheless, in an oilskin
case. The front view of him was the view in which he looked oldest;
meeting him face to face, he might have been estimated at fifty or more.
Walking behind him, his back and shoulders were almost young enough to
have passed for five-and-thirty. His manners were distinguished by a
grave serenity. When he opened his lips, he spoke in a rich bass
voice, with an easy flow of language, and a strict attention to the
elocutionary claims of words in more than one syllable. Persuasion
distilled from his mildly-curling lips; and, shabby as he was, perennial
flowers of courtesy bloomed all over him from head to foot.

"This is the residence of Mr. Vanstone, I believe?" he began, with a
circular wave of his hand in the direction of the house. "Have I the
honor of addressing a member of Mr. Vanstone's family?"

"Yes," said the plain-spoken Miss Garth. "You are addressing Mr.
Vanstone's governess."

The persuasive man fell back a step--admired Mr. Vanstone's
governess--advanced a step again--and continued the conversation.

"And the two young ladies," he went on, "the two young ladies who were
walking with you are doubtless Mr. Vanstone's daughters? I recognized
the darker of the two, and the elder as I apprehend, by her likeness to
her handsome mother. The younger lady--"

"You are acquainted with Mrs. Vanstone, I suppose?" said Miss Garth,
interrupting the stranger's flow of language, which, all things
considered, was beginning, in her opinion, to flow rather freely. The
stranger acknowledged the interruption by one of his polite bows, and
submerged Miss Garth in his next sentence as if nothing had happened.

"The younger lady," he proceeded, "takes after her father, I presume? I
assure you, her face struck me. Looking at it with my friendly interest
in the family, I thought it very remarkable. I said to myself--Charming,
Characteristic, Memorable. Not like her sister, not like her mother. No
doubt, the image of her father?"

Once more Miss Garth attempted to stem the man's flow of words. It was
plain that he did not know Mr. Vanstone, even by sight--otherwise he
would never have committed the error of supposing that Magdalen took
after her father. Did he know Mrs. Vanstone any better? He had left Miss
Garth's question on that point unanswered. In the name of wonder, who
was he? Powers of impudence! what did he want?

"You may be a friend of the family, though I don't remember your face,"
said Miss Garth. "What may your commands be, if you please? Did you come
here to pay Mrs. Vanstone a visit?"

"I had anticipated the pleasure of communicating with Mrs. Vanstone,"
answered this inveterately evasive and inveterately civil man. "How is
she?"

"Much as usual," said Miss Garth, feeling her resources of politeness
fast failing her.

"Is she at home?"

"No."

"Out for long?"

"Gone to London with Mr. Vanstone."

The man's long face suddenly grew longer. His bilious brown eye looked
disconcerted, and his bilious green eye followed its example. His manner
became palpably anxious; and his choice of words was more carefully
selected than ever.

"Is Mrs. Vanstone's absence likely to extend over any very lengthened
period?" he inquired.

"It will extend over three weeks," replied Miss Garth. "I think you have
now asked me questions enough," she went on, beginning to let her temper
get the better of her at last. "Be so good, if you please, as to mention
your business and your name. If you have any message to leave for Mrs.
Vanstone, I shall be writing to her by to-night's post, and I can take
charge of it."

"A thousand thanks! A most valuable suggestion. Permit me to take
advantage of it immediately."

He was not in the least affected by the severity of Miss Garth's looks
and language--he was simply relieved by her proposal, and he showed it
with the most engaging sincerity. This time his bilious green eye took
the initiative, and set his bilious brown eye the example of recovered
serenity. His curling lips took a new twist upward; he tucked his
umbrella briskly under his arm; and produced from the breast of his coat
a large old-fashioned black pocketbook. From this he took a pencil and
a card--hesitated and considered for a moment--wrote rapidly on the
card--and placed it, with the politest alacrity, in Miss Garth's hand.

"I shall feel personally obliged if you will honor me by inclosing that
card in your letter," he said. "There is no necessity for my troubling
you additionally with a message. My name will be quite sufficient to
recall a little family matter to Mrs. Vanstone, which has no doubt
escaped her memory. Accept my best thanks. This has been a day
of agreeable surprises to me. I have found the country hereabouts
remarkably pretty; I have seen Mrs. Vanstone's two charming daughters;
I have become acquainted with an honored preceptress in Mr. Vanstone's
family. I congratulate myself--I apologize for occupying your valuable
time--I beg my renewed acknowledgments--I wish you good-morning."

He raised his tall hat. His brown eye twinkled, his green eye twinkled,
his curly lips smiled sweetly. In a moment he turned on his heel. His
youthful back appeared to the best advantage; his active little legs
took him away trippingly in the direction of the village. One, two,
three--and he reached the turn in the road. Four, five, six--and he was
gone.

Miss Garth looked down at the card in her hand, and looked up again
in blank astonishment. The name and address of the clerical-looking
stranger (both written in pencil) ran as follows:

_Captain Wragge. Post-office, Bristol._



CHAPTER III.

WHEN she returned to the house, Miss Garth made no attempt to conceal
her unfavorable opinion of the stranger in black. His object was, no
doubt, to obtain pecuniary assistance from Mrs. Vanstone. What the
nature of his claim on her might be seemed less intelligible--unless it
was the claim of a poor relation. Had Mrs. Vanstone ever mentioned, in
the presence of her daughters, the name of Captain Wragge? Neither
of them recollected to have heard it before. Had Mrs. Vanstone ever
referred to any poor relations who were dependent on her? On the
contrary she had mentioned of late years that she doubted having any
relations at all who were still living. And yet Captain Wragge had
plainly declared that the name on his card would recall "a family
matter" to Mrs. Vanstone's memory. What did it mean? A false statement,
on the stranger's part, without any intelligible reason for making it?
Or a second mystery, following close on the heels of the mysterious
journey to London?

All the probabilities seemed to point to some hidden connection between
the "family affairs" which had taken Mr. and Mrs. Vanstone so suddenly
from home and the "family matter" associated with the name of Captain
Wragge. Miss Garth's doubts thronged back irresistibly on her mind as
she sealed her letter to Mrs. Vanstone, with the captain's card added by
way of inclosure.

By return of post the answer arrived.

Always the earliest riser among the ladies of the house, Miss Garth was
alo ne in the breakfast-room when the letter was brought in. Her first
glance at its contents convinced her of the necessity of reading it
carefully through in retirement, before any embarrassing questions could
be put to her. Leaving a message with the servant requesting Norah to
make the tea that morning, she went upstairs at once to the solitude and
security of her own room.

Mrs. Vanstone's letter extended to some length. The first part of it
referred to Captain Wragge, and entered unreservedly into all necessary
explanations relating to the man himself and to the motive which had
brought him to Combe-Raven.

It appeared from Mrs. Vanstone's statement that her mother had been
twice married. Her mother's first husband had been a certain Doctor
Wragge--a widower with young children; and one of those children was
now the unmilitary-looking captain, whose address was "Post-office,
Bristol." Mrs. Wragge had left no family by her first husband; and had
afterward married Mrs. Vanstone's father. Of that second marriage Mrs.
Vanstone herself was the only issue. She had lost both her parents
while she was still a young woman; and, in course of years, her mother's
family connections (who were then her nearest surviving relatives) had
been one after another removed by death. She was left, at the present
writing, without a relation in the world--excepting, perhaps, certain
cousins whom she had never seen, and of whose existence even, at the
present moment, she possessed no positive knowledge.