ll be having
your father and Sir Godfrey shaking hands and dining together just as
they did in the old times."

"And you and Nat quarrelling good-temperedly again as to which is the
best cider, that at the Manor or theirs at the Hall."

"No, Master Fred; that's going a little too far, sir. Eh? What say?"

"Look here; I'll show you where the proper entrance to the passage is.
That hole, as I told you, was only broken through."

Fred turned off a little, and made his way down to the edge of the lake
by the rocky bank where the birches drooped down till their delicate
leaves nearly dipped in the water; and as they hung over, after a
careful look round, Fred pointed out the opening.

"What! that little bit of a hole, sir?"

"That's where Scarlett kicked out a stone or two. The whole of the rest
of the arch is built up."

"Well, sir, I s'pose it's true, as you tell me it is," said Samson,
thoughtfully; "but if anybody had told me all this without showing me
the place, I should have said, `Thank ye; now see if you can tell a
bigger story.'"

"You know now it's true," said Fred, thoughtfully. "And look here," he
continued, after he had related in full how he and Scarlett discovered
the place, "let's go up to the Hall, and see if there is any sign of the
opening there. Think the ruins will be cool?"

"No, sir, nor yet for another week. Why, some of the men was roasting
meat in the hot embers, and cooking bread there this morning."

"Never mind. I had not the heart to go there when I woke. I am eager
to see everything now, and I tremble for fear that the way may have been
laid open. Come along."

Samson followed, nothing loth, the rods and basket being forgotten, and
they made their way round by the edge of the lake on the side nearest to
the Hall, Fred having hard work to keep from gazing back at the patch of
the old forest which concealed the passage where he felt certain now his
friends--he mentally corrected himself--his enemies, must lie.

A sad feeling came over the lad, though, once more, as he led the way
through the hazel wood, where Sir Godfrey had had endless paths cut,
every one of which was carpeted with moss; for there were the marks of
hoofs, hazel stubs had been wantonly cut down, and the nearer they drew
to the ruined Hall, the more frequent were the traces of destruction,
while, when at last they came from the shrubbery and stood in full view
of the place, the picture of desolation was so