e wind which comes over the Cheviots--fresh and sweet
even though it bring with it the snell sting of snow-filled "hopes" and
the long dyke backs ridged with lingering white of last year's storms.

But there a yet greater astonishment awaited her. Jeremy's grip did
not loosen upon her wrist. He led her toward the half-ruined
drawbridge. It was within a few steps of the sham, ivy-grown ruin
where they had emerged.

Before her eyes the house of Deep Moat Grange, all along its first
floor, blazed with the light of a great feast. Beneath and above all
was dark. But the great drawing-room, the weaving-room, and Mr.
Stennis' bedroom seemed all filled with light.

Jeremy, who seemed to have eyes which saw in the dark, led her easily
across the hall, up the staircase, in the completest darkness. Then at
the top he suddenly threw the folding doors open, and with a certain
formal parade of manners, announced: "Miss Elsie Stennis, of Deep Moat
Grange."

Then laughing heartily at his wit, he entered after her, locking the
door and pocketing the key. The large room was still ornamented in the
old style, for the furniture within it had been taken over by Mr.
Stennis when he bought the property. Miss Orrin had arranged wax
candles in all the many-bracketed chandeliers. With some strange idea
of the fitness of things, she had ordered these to be made extra large,
red, and fluted. Jeremy had lighted all these, and the wide saloon,
with its central carpet and waxed borders, was as light as day.

On the table, just undone from its wrappings, lay a tinselled and
silver melodeon of the latest type. It was the same that Mr.
Ablethorpe and I had seen Mad Jeremy buy that evening in our retail
shop, and offer in payment the hundred-pound note.

Jeremy leaped upon the instrument, in three light, silent strides, like
some graceful, dangerous animal. He swung it over his head with
something like a cheer, and at once swept into a tide of melody. Elsie
looked all about her. Nothing had been moved, save that on one of the
sofas was the mark of muddy boots---Jeremy's for certain. For it was
to that place he betook himself now. All the rest of the chamber bore
the mark of Miss Orrin's careful hand, and her worst enemy did not deny
that she was an excellent housekeeper.

"Where is my grandfather?" cried Elsie, in a pause of the stormy music.
Jeremy answered her by a simple cock of the thumb over his shoulder in
the direction of t