ace, and was engaged
immediately by reason of his civility and intelligence, before Lady
Icenway knew anything of the matter. Much therefore did he surprise her
when she found him in the conservatories of her mansion a week or two
after his arrival. The punishment of instant dismissal, with which at
first she haughtily threatened him, my lady thought fit, on reflection,
not to enforce. While he served her thus she knew he would not harm her
by a word, while, if he were expelled, chagrin might induce him to reveal
in a moment of exasperation what kind treatment would assist him to
conceal.

So he was allowed to remain on the premises, and had for his residence a
little cottage by the garden-wall which had been the domicile of some of
his predecessors in the same occupation. Here he lived absolutely alone,
and spent much of his leisure in reading, but the greater part in
watching the windows and lawns of his lady's house for glimpses of the
form of the child. It was for that child's sake that he abandoned the
tenets of the Roman Catholic Church in which he had been reared, and
became the most regular attendant at the services in the parish place of
worship hard by, where, sitting behind the pew of my lady, my lord, and
his stepson, the gardener could pensively study the traits and movements
of the youngster at only a few feet distance, without suspicion or
hindrance.

He filled his post for more than two years with a pleasure to himself
which, though mournful, was soothing, his lady never forgiving him, or
allowing him to be anything more than 'the gardener' to her child, though
once or twice the boy said, 'That gardener's eyes are so sad! Why does
he look so sadly at me?' He sunned himself in her scornfulness as if it
were love, and his ears drank in her curt monosyllables as though they
were rhapsodies of endearment. Strangely enough, the coldness with which
she treated her foreigner began to be the conduct of Lord Icenway towards
herself. It was a matter of great anxiety to him that there should be a
lineal successor to the title, yet no sign of that successor appeared.
One day he complained to her quite roughly of his fate. 'All will go to
that dolt of a cousin!' he cried. 'I'd sooner see my name and place at
the bottom of the sea!'

The lady soothed him and fell into thought, and did not recriminate. But
one day, soon after, she went down to the cottage of the gardener to
inquire how he was getting on,