d of the fly-wheel,
but I gave him a spin which I believed saved his life, though he did
rather stare. He was a lord."

"They are great heiresses, his daughters, they say at Mowbray," said
Egremont.

"I dare say," said Gerard. "A year ago this earl had a son--an only son,
and then his daughters were not great heiresses. But the son died and
now it's their turn. And perhaps some day it will be somebody else's
turn. If you want to understand the ups and downs of life, there's
nothing like the parchments of an estate. Now master, now man! He who
served in the hall now lords in it: and very often the baseborn change
their liveries for coronets, while gentle blood has nothing left
but--dreams; eh, master Franklin?"

"It seems you know the history of this Lord de Mowbray?"

"Why a man learns a good many things in his time; and living in these
parts, there are few secrets of the notables. He has had the title to
his broad acres questioned before this time, my friend."

"Indeed!"

"Yes: I could not help thinking of that to-day," said Gerard, "when he
questioned me with his mincing voice and pulled the wool with his cursed
white hands and showed it to his dame, who touched it with her little
finger; and his daughters who tossed their heads like pea-hens--Lady
Joan and Lady Maud. Lady Joan and Lady Maud!" repeated Gerard in a voice
of bitter sarcasm. "I did not care for the rest; but I could not stand
that Lady Joan and that Lady Maud. I wonder if my Sybil saw them."

In the meantime, Sybil had been sent for by Mrs Trafford. She had
inferred from the message that the guests had departed, and her animated
cheek showed the eagerness with which she had responded to the call.
Bounding along with a gladness of the heart which lent additional lustre
to her transcendent brightness, she suddenly found herself surrounded
in the garden by Lady Maud and her friends. The daughter of Lord de
Mowbray, who could conceive nothing but humility as the cause of her
alarmed look, attempted to re-assure her by condescending volubility,
turning often to her friends and praising in admiring interrogatories
Sybil's beauty.

"And we took advantage of your absence," said Lady Maud in a tone of
amiable artlessness, "to find out all about you. And what a pity we did
not know you when you were at the convent, because then you might have
been constantly at the castle; indeed I should have insisted on it. But
still I hear we are neighbours; you must