and went outside and hoisted
himself, as it were, up from his crooked S position to look at the three
stags' heads on the shield on the wall; dim stags' heads that to you, or
at least to me, might have been fishes, or Jove's thunderbolts, or
anything.

Amaryllis was left standing alone a moment in the porch, the deep shadow
within behind her, the curve of the arch over, a fine setting for a
portrait. She stood the more upright because of the fire and temper
suppressed in her.

Just outside the human letter S--crooked S--clad in sad white-grey
miller's garments, its old hat almost falling backwards off its old grey
head, gazed up and pointed with its oaken cudgel at the coat of arms.
Seven hundred years--the weight of seven hundred years--hung over them
both in that old Abbey.

Into that Past he was soon to disappear: she came out to the Future.

Thence he took her to an arched door, nail-studded, in the passage wall,
and giving her the key, told her to open it, and stood watching her in
triumph, as if it had been the door to some immense treasury. She turned
the lock, and he pushed her before him hastily, as if they must snatch
so grand an opportunity.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XV.

WITHIN there was a gravel path, and glimpses between trees of wide
pleasure-grounds. Amaryllis hesitated, and looked back; Iden drew her
forward, not noticing her evident disinclination to proceed. If he had,
he would have put it down to awe, instead of which it was dislike.

For she guessed they were entering the lawns in front of the Hon.
Raleigh Pamment's mansion. He was the largest owner of town and country;
the streets, the market-place, the open spaces, in which the fair was
being held, belonged to him; so did most of the farms and hamlets out of
which the people had come. The Pamments were Tories; very important
Tories indeed.

The Idens, in their little way, were Tories, too, right to the centre of
the cerebellum; the Flammas were hot Republicans. Now Amaryllis, being a
girl, naturally loved her father most, yet she was a wilful and
rebellious revolutionist. Amaryllis, who would not be a Flamma, had
imbibed all the Flamma hatred of authority from her mother.

To her the Pamments were the incarnation of everything detestable, of
oppression, obstruction, and mediaeval darkness. She knew nothing of
politics; at sixteen you do not need to know to feel vehemently, you
feel vehemently without kno