sengers know now a greater secret
than the one which, during the coming holidays, I hoped to fathom.

CHAPTER III.

MEN IN HIDING.

When in actual sight of the two things I had most longed to see, I can
hardly say which of them more strongly attracted my attention--the sea
glistening like a sheet of silver in the distance, or the old house
nestling down among the trees, with its mullioned windows, gray,
lichen-covered walls, and the funny little cupola surmounting the roof,
and containing the bell which was rung to summon the farm hands to
their meals. The coach had put us down at a spot on the highroad known
as Tod's Corner, where an old servant had met us, and driven us the
rest of the way in a light trap which was just large enough to hold us
and our luggage.

Even at the first glance Coverthorne quite realized my expectations.
The house and farm buildings formed a quadrangle, while the windows of
the sitting-rooms looked out into a quiet, old walled garden, with
fruit-trees, box-edged paths, beds of old-fashioned flowers, and a big
mulberry tree, in the shade of which was a rustic seat. Inside the
building was a large stone-flagged hall, in which, except on special
occasions, we had our meals. The rooms were low and cool, the steps of
the staircase were shallow and broad, flanked with a ponderous
balustrade of dark oak, while panelling of the same material covered
the walls of the best rooms and some of the passages. The whole place
seemed characteristic of a peaceful old age, and it was almost
impossible to think that within its walls anything could ever occur to
disturb its restful quiet with any jarring note of violence or fear.

Mrs. Coverthorne gave me a kindly welcome, though it was evident that
she had not yet recovered from the shock of her husband's death. Her
quiet voice and motherly smile at once won my affections; but often,
when her face was in repose, it bore a sad and harassed expression
which did not escape my notice, and which brought back to my mind a
remembrance of the hints which Miles had given me at school, of some
trouble, in addition to his father's death, which overshadowed the
family.

We arrived early in the afternoon, and after a hearty meal, for which
the long ride in the fresh air had given us an appetite, we hurried out
of doors, to go the round of the place, and visit all Miles's favourite
haunts. To the neighbouring pond and water-wheel, the orchard, the
stables a