Oh, Jason, if I were only a man, how
much better it would be!"

"Yes, miss," assented Jason, simply, with another touch of his
forehead.

She sighed and laughed again, and gathering up her habit--she hadn't to
raise it much--she went through an open door-way into a wild, but
pretty garden, and so to the back of one of the most picturesque houses
in this land of the picturesque. It was built of grey stone which age
had coloured with a tender and an appreciative hand; a rich growth of
ivy and clematis clung lovingly over a greater portion of it so that
the mullioned windows were framed by the dark leaves and the purple
flower. The house was long and rambling and had once been flourishing
and important, but it was now eloquent of decay and pathetic with the
signs of "better times" that had vanished long ago. A flight of worn
steps led to a broad glass door, and opening the latter, the girl
passed under a curved wooden gallery into a broad hall. It was dimly
lit by an oriel window of stained glass, over which the ivy and
clematis had been allowed to fall; there was that faint odour which
emanates from old wood and leather and damask; the furniture was
antique and of the neutral tint which comes from age; the weapons and
the ornaments of brass, the gilding of the great pictures, were all dim
and lack-lustre for want of the cleaning and polishing which require
many servants. In the huge fire-place some big logs were burning, and
Donald and Bess threw themselves down before it with a sigh of
satisfaction. The girl looked round her, just as she had looked round
the stable-yard; then, tossing her soft hat and whip on the old oak
table, she went to one of the large heavy doors, and knocking, said in
her clear voice:

"Father, are you there?"

Inside the room an old man sat at a table. It was littered with books,
some of them open as if he had been consulting them; but before him lay
an open deed, and at his elbow were several others lying on an open
deed-box. He was thin and as faded-looking and as worn with age as the
house and the room, lined with dusty volumes and yellow,
surface-cracked maps and pictures. He wore a long dressing-gown which
was huddled round him as if he were cold, though a fire of logs almost
as large as the one in the hall was burning in the open fire-place.

At the sound of the knock he raised his head, an expression, which was
a mixture of fear and senile cunning came into his lined and pallid
face,