farm was a hotbed of disorder.
I expect it was, too; three of our men were hung up at Canterbury on one
day--for horse-stealing and arson.... Anyhow, that was my mother. As
for me, I was under her, and, since I had my aspirations, I had a rather
bitter childhood. And I had others to contrast myself with. First
there was Rooksby: a pleasant, well-spoken, amiable young squire of the
immediate neighbourhood; young Sir Ralph, a man popular with all sorts,
and in love with my sister Veronica from early days. Veronica was very
beautiful, and very gentle, and very kind; tall, slim, with sloping
white shoulders and long white arms, hair the colour of amber, and
startled blue eyes--a good mate for Rooksby. Rooksby had foreign
relations, too. The uncle from whom he inherited the Priory had married
a Riego, a Castilian, during the Peninsular war. He had been a prisoner
at the time--he had died in Spain, I think. When Ralph made the grand
tour, he had made the acquaintance of his Spanish relations; he used to
talk about them, the Riegos, and Veronica used to talk of what he said
of them until they came to stand for Romance, the romance of the
outer world, to me. One day, a little before Ralph and Veronica became
engaged, these Spaniards descended out of the blue. It was Romance
suddenly dangled right before my eyes. It was Romance; you have no idea
what it meant to me to talk to Carlos Riego.

Rooksby was kind enough. He had me over to the Priory, where I made
the acquaintance of the two maiden ladies, his second cousins, who kept
house for him. Yes, Ralph was kind; but I rather hated him for it,
and was a little glad when he, too, had to suffer some of the pangs of
jealousy--jealousy of Carlos Riego.

Carlos was dark, and of a grace to set Ralph as much in the shade as
Ralph himself set me; and Carlos had seen a deal more of the world than
Ralph. He had a foreign sense of humour that made him forever ready to
sacrifice his personal dignity. It made Veronica laugh, and even drew
a grim smile from my mother; but it gave Ralph bad moments. How he came
into these parts was a little of a mystery. When Ralph was displeased
with this Spanish connection he used to swear that Carlos had cut a
throat or taken a purse. At other times he used to say that it was a
political matter. In fine, Carlos had the hospitality of the Priory, and
the title of Count when he chose to use it. He brought with him a short,
pursy, bearded companion, half frie