him badly," he said.

"Yes, I shall miss him,"--simply. She returned his glance frankly. "You
are very like him, you know," she added suddenly.

It was true. The big, soldierly man beside her, with his jolly blue
eyes, grey hair, and short-clipped military moustache, bore a striking
resemblance to the Patrick Lovell of ten years ago, before ill-health
had laid its finger upon him, and during the difficult days that
succeeded her uncle's death Sara had unconsciously found a strange kind
of comfort in the likeness. She had dreaded inexpressibly the advent of
the future owner of Barrow, but, when he had arrived, his resemblance
to his dead cousin, and a certain similarity of gesture and of voice,
common enough in families, had at once established a sense of
kinship, which had deepened with her recognition of Durward's genuine
kind-heartedness and solicitude for her comfort.

He had immediately assumed control of affairs, taking all the inevitable
detail of arrangement off her shoulders, yet deferring to her as though
she were still just as much mistress of the Court as she had been before
her uncle's death. In every way he had tried to ease and smooth matters
for her, and she felt proportionately grateful to him.

"Then, if you think I'm like him," said Durward gently, "will you let me
try to take his place a little? I mean," he explained hastily, fearing
she might misunderstand him, "that you will miss his guardianship and
care of you, as well as the good pal you found in him. Will you let
me try to fill in the gaps, if--if you should want advice, or
service--anything over which a male man can be a bit useful? Oh----"
breaking off with a short, embarrassed laugh--"it is so difficult to
explain what I do mean!"

"I think I know," said Sara, smiling faintly. "You mean that now that
Uncle Pat has gone, you don't want me to feel quite adrift in the
world."

The big man, hampered by his masculine shyness of a difficult situation,
smiled back at her, relieved.

"Yes, that's it, that's it!" he agreed eagerly. "I want you to regard me
as a--a sort of sheet-anchor upon which you can pull in a storm."

"Thank you," said Sara. "I will. But I hope there won't be storms of
such magnitude that I shall need to pull very hard."

Durward smoked furiously for a moment. Then he burst forth--

"You can't imagine what a brute I feel for turning you out of the Court.
I wish it need not be. But the Lovells have always lived at the o