virtuous
lot."

"Oh yes, he'll get on--everybody says so. And he'll deserve it too!" she
added, her eye kindling combatively as she surveyed her father. "He
takes a lot of trouble down here, about the cottages and the board of
guardians and the farms. The Hardens like him very much, but he is not
exactly popular, according to them. His manners are sometimes shy and
awkward, and the poor people think he's proud."

"Ah! a prig I dare say--like some of his uncles before him," said Mr.
Boyce, irritably. "But he was civil to you, you say?"

And again he turned a quick considering eye on his daughter.

"Oh dear! yes," said Marcella, with a little proud smile. There was a
pause; then she spoke again. "I must go off to the church; the Hardens
have hard work just now with the harvest festival, and I promised to
take them some flowers."

"Well"--said her father, grudgingly, "so long as you don't promise
anything on my account! I tell you, I haven't got sixpence to spend on
subscriptions to anything or anybody. By the way, if you see Reynolds
anywhere about the drive, you can send him to me. He and I are going
round the Home Farm to pick up a few birds if we can, and see what the
coverts look like. The stock has all run down, and the place has been
poached to death. But he thinks if we take on an extra man in the
spring, and spend a little on rearing, we shall do pretty decently next
year."

The colour leapt to Marcella's cheek as she tied on her hat.

"You will set up another keeper, and you won't do anything for the
village?" she cried, her black eyes lightening, and without another word
she opened the French window and walked rapidly away along the terrace,
leaving her father both angered and amazed.

A man like Richard Boyce cannot get comfortably through life without a
good deal of masquerading in which those in his immediate neighbourhood
are expected to join. His wife had long since consented to play the
game, on condition of making it plain the whole time that she was no
dupe. As to what Marcella's part in the affair might be going to be, her
father was as yet uneasily in the dark. What constantly astonished him,
as she moved and talked under his eye, was the girl's beauty. Surely she
had been a plain child, though a striking one. But now she had not only
beauty, but the air of beauty. The self-confidence given by the
possession of good looks was very evident in her behaviour. She was very
accomplished, too, and