o turn in,--that's where we usually go up, but I've
brought you round to show you the town. That's the inn,--whoever can
possibly come to stay there I don't know; I never saw anybody go in
or out. That's the baker who bakes our bread,--we baked it at the
house at first, but nobody could eat it; and I know that that man
there mends Mr Palliser's shoes. He's very particular about his
shoes. We shall see the church as we go in at the other gate. It
is in the park, and is very pretty,--but not half so pretty as the
priory ruins close to the house. The ruins are our great lion. I do
so love to wander about them at moonlight. I often think of you when
I do; I don't know why.--But I do know why, and I'll tell you some
day. Come, Miss Flirt!"

As they drove up through the park, Lady Glencora pointed out first
the church and then the ruins, through the midst of which the road
ran, and then they were at once before the front door. The corner
of the modern house came within two hundred yards of the gateway of
the old priory. It was a large building, very pretty, with two long
fronts; but it was no more than a house. It was not a palace, nor a
castle, nor was it hardly to be called a mansion. It was built with
gabled roofs, four of which formed the side from which the windows of
the drawing-rooms opened out upon a lawn which separated the house
from the old ruins, and which indeed surrounded the ruins, and went
inside them, forming the present flooring of the old chapel, and the
old refectory, and the old cloisters. Much of the cloisters indeed
was standing, and there the stone pavement remained; but the square
of the cloisters was all turfed, and in the middle of it stood
a large modern stone vase, out of the broad basin of which hung
flowering creepers and green tendrils.

As Lady Glencora drove up to the door, a gentleman, who had heard the
sound of the wheels, came forth to meet them. "There's Mr Palliser,"
said she; "that shows that you are an honoured guest, for you may
be sure that he is hard at work and would not have come out for
anybody else. Plantagenet, here is Miss Vavasor, perished. Alice, my
husband." Then Mr Palliser put forth his hand and helped her out of
the carriage.

"I hope you've not found it very cold," said he. "The winter has come
upon us quite suddenly."

He said nothing more to her than this, till he met her again before
dinner. He was a tall thin man, apparently not more than thirty years
of age,