brought a decided flush to her fair skin--a flush which was
half amusement, half wrath. That morning a rather curious incident
had happened. After her talk with Major Mannering, and because the
morning was fine and the Squire was away, she had dragged a small
table out into the garden, in front of the library, and set to work
there on a part of the new catalogue of the collections, which she
and Mr. Levasseur were making. She did not, however, like Mr.
Levasseur. Something in her, indeed, disapproved of him strongly.
She had already managed to dislodge him a good deal from his former
intimacy with the Squire. Luckily she was a much better scholar than
he, though she admitted that his artistic judgment was worth having.

As a shelter from a rather cold north wind, she was sitting in full
sun under the protection of a yew hedge of ancient growth, which ran
out at right angles to the library, and made one side of a
quadrangular rose-garden, planted by Mrs. Mannering long ago, and
now, like everything else, in confusion and neglect.

Presently she heard voices on the other side of the hedge--Mrs.
Strang, no doubt, and Mrs. Gaddesden. She did not take much to
either lady. Mrs. Strang seemed to her full of good intentions, but
without practical ability to fit them. For Mrs. Gaddesden's type she
had an instinctive contempt, the contempt of the clever woman of
small means who has had to earn her own living, and to watch in
silence the poses and pretences of rich women playing at
philanthropy. But, all the same, she and the servants between them
had made Mrs. Gaddesden extremely comfortable, while at the same
time rationing her strictly. 'I really can be civil to anybody!'
thought Elizabeth complacently.

Suddenly, her own name, and a rush of remarks on the other side of
this impenetrable hedge, made her raise her head, startled, from her
work, eyes and mouth wide open.

It was Mrs. Gaddesden speaking.

'Yes, she's gone out. I went into the library just now to ask her to
look out a train for me. She's wonderfully good at Bradshaw. Oh, of
course, I admit she's a very clever woman! But she wasn't there.
Forest thinks she's gone over to Holme Wood, to get father some
information he wants. She asked Forest how to get this this morning.
My dear Margaret,' with great emphasis, 'there's no question about
it! If she chooses, she'll be mistress here before long. She's
steadily getting father into her hands. She was never engaged,