, all now seated
round their mother on the grass, each eager to be the first to tell
the tale, yet at a loss for words. Bridget, as usual, stepped into the
gap. She explained that 'the Priest had been amazed to find the
Stranger here. They had had much discourse. Till at last, Priest
Lampitt, waxing hot and fiery ere he departed, strode down the flagged
path slashing all the flowers with his cane and never seemed to know
what he was doing, though you know, mother, that he loves our garden.'

A shade of real annoyance crossed Mistress Fell's face. 'The good
Priest angered in my house,' she said, with real concern in her voice,
'and I not there, but only a pack of giddy maids, who had not wit
enough between them to keep a discourteous stranger in his place and
prevent his being rude to an old friend! Nay, now, maidens, speak not
all together. Ye are too young and do but babble. Let Bridget
continue, or my Margaret. Either of them I can trust.' But 'young
Margrett' was bending her head still lower, seemingly over her daisy
chain.

'Truly, mother,' she said in a low voice close to her mother's ear,
'there are no words for him. He is so--different; I knew not that
earth held a man like him. And he will be coming back shortly to the
house--maybe he is already awaiting you!'

Mistress Fell looked up now in undisguised alarm. Who was this
nameless Stranger who had invaded her house during her absence, and
had apparently stolen the heart of her discreet and dignified
Margaret, in one interview, by the mere sight of his charms? Young,
handsome, quarrelsome; who could he be? What had brought him to
Swarthmoor to destroy its peace?

She turned to capable Bridget for information. Bridget, never at a
loss, understood her mother's fears, or some of them, and immediately
answered reassuringly, 'Be not disquieted, sweet mother. Nothing
really untoward has happened. It is true the Stranger disputed hotly
with Lampitt, but it was the Priest's blame as much as the Stranger's
at first, though afterwards, when Lampitt held out his hand and wished
to be friendly, the Stranger turned from him and shook him off. Yet,
though his actions were harsh there was gentleness in his face and
bearing. He is a man of goodly presence, this Stranger, but quite,
quite old, thirty or thereabouts by my guessing.'

The elder Margaret smiled. Bridget continued hastily: 'Or may be more.
Any way he seemed older from his gravity, and from his outlandish
dres