er different from Auckland, I'm afraid."

Sir Jeremy said nothing. He lay there without moving; Clare untied the
napkin, and put back the medicine, and wheeled the chair into a sunnier
part of the room and away from the window.

"You must get on with Harry, Clare," he said suddenly, sharply.

"Why, yes," she answered, laughing a little uneasily. "Of course we
get on. Only his way of looking at things was always a little
different--even, perhaps, a little difficult to understand"; and then,
after a little pause, "I am stupid, I know. It was always hard for me
to see like other people."

But he was not listening to her. He was smiling at the sun, and the
birds on the lawn, and the flashing gold of the distant sand.

"No, you never saw like Harry," he said at last. "You want to be old
to understand," and he would say no more.

He talked to her no more that morning, and she was vaguely uneasy.
What was he thinking about Harry, and how did his opinion influence the
situation?

She fancied that she saw signs of rebellion. For many years he had
allowed her to do what she would, and although she had sometimes
wondered whether he was quite as passive as she had fancied, she had
had no fear of any disturbance. Now there was something vaguely
menacing in his very silences. And, in some undefined way, the
pleasure that he took in the cries of birds, the plunge and chatter of
the sea as it rose and fell on the southern shore, the glint of the sun
on the gold and green distances of rock and moor was alarming. She
herself did not understand those things; indeed, she scarcely saw them,
and was inclined to despise any one who loved any unpractical beauty,
anything that was not at least traditional. And now this was a bond
between her father and Harry. They had both loved wild, uncivilised
things, and it was this very trait in their character that had made
division between them before. But now what had been in those early
years the cause of trouble was their common ground of sympathy.

They shared some secret of which she knew nothing, and she was afraid
lest Robin should learn it too.

She went about her housekeeping duties that morning with an uneasy
mind. The discipline below stairs was excellent because she was
feared. It was not that she was hasty-tempered or unjust; indeed the
cook, who had been there for many years, said that she had never seen
Miss Clare angry, and her justice was a thing to marvel at. S