ay
I shall fine down as I get older," said Sarah, apologetically. "It
would be dreadful if I grew up like mamma. But I am more like my
father, thank goodness, and _he_ is simply a mass of hard muscle. I
dare say even I could beat you on the flat. But not up this drive.
Doesn't it look pretty in the spring?"

"It was very different when I left Barracombe," said John.

He looked round with all a Londoner's appreciation.

In the sunny corner next the ivy-clad lodge an early rhododendron
had burst into scarlet bloom. The steep drive was warmly walled and
sheltered on the side next the hill by horse-chestnuts, witch-elms,
tall, flowering shrubs and evergreens, and a variety of tree-azaleas
and rhododendrons which promised a blaze of beauty later in the
season.

But the other side of the drive lay in full view of the open
landscape; rolling grass slopes stretching down to the orchards
and the valley. Violets, white and blue, scented the air, and the
primroses clustered at the roots of the forest trees.

The gnarled and twisted stems of giant creepers testified to the age
of Barracombe House. Before the entrance was a level space, which made
a little spring garden, more formal and less varied in its arrangement
than the terrace gardens on the south front; but no less gay and
bright, with beds of hyacinths, red and white and purple, and
daffodils springing amidst their bodyguards of pale, pointed spears.

A wild cherry-tree at the corner of the house had showered snowy
petals before the latticed window of the study; the window whence Sir
Timothy had taken his last look at the western sky, and from which
his watchful gaze had once commanded the approach to his house, and
observed almost every human being who ventured up the drive.

On the ridge of the hill above, and in clumps upon the fertile slopes
of the side of the little valley, the young larches rose, newly
clothed in that light and brilliant foliage which darkens almost
before spring gives place to summer.

They found Lady Mary in the drawing-room; the sunshine streamed
towards her through the golden rain of a _planta-genista_, which stood
on a table in the western corner of the bow window. She was looking
out over the south terrace, and the valley and the river, just as
Sarah had said.

He was shocked at her pallor, which was accentuated by her black
dress; her sapphire blue eyes looked unnaturally large and clear; the
little white hands clasped in her lap we