er's garden I suppose I
did not take an unwarrantable liberty in coming,' said Mary, drawing
herself up, and ready for battle.

'It is Lady Maulevrier's wish that this garden should be reserved for my
use,' answered Steadman. 'Her ladyship knows that my uncle walks here of
an afternoon, and that, owing to his age and infirmities, he can go
nowhere else; and if only on that account, it is well that the garden
should be kept private. Lunatics are rather dangerous company, Lady
Mary, and I advise you to give them a wide berth wherever you may meet
them.'

'I am not afraid of your uncle,' said Mary, resolutely. 'You said
yourself just now that he is quite harmless: and I am really interested
in him, poor old creature. He likes me to sit with him a little of an
afternoon and to talk to him; and if you have no objection I should like
to do so, whenever the weather is fine enough for the poor old man to be
out in the garden at this hour.'

'I have a very great objection, Lady Mary, and that objection is chiefly
in your interest,' answered Steadman, firmly. 'No one who is not
experienced in the ways of lunatics can imagine the danger of any
association with them--their consummate craftiness, their capacity for
crime. Every madman is harmless up to a certain point--mild,
inoffensive, perhaps, up to the very moment in which he commits some
appalling crime. And then people cry out upon the want of prudence, the
want of common-sense which allowed such an act to be possible. No, Lady
Mary, I understand the benevolence of your motive, but I cannot permit
you to run such a risk.'

'I am convinced that the poor old creature is perfectly harmless,' said
Mary, with suppressed indignation. 'I shall certainly ask Lady
Maulevrier to speak to you on the subject. Perhaps her influence may
induce you to be a little more considerate to your unhappy relation.'

'Lady Mary, I beg you not to say a word to Lady Maulevrier on this
subject. You will do me the greatest injury if you speak of that man. I
entreat you--'

But Mary was gone. She passed Steadman with her head held high and her
eyes sparkling with anger. All that was generous, compassionate, womanly
in her nature was up in arms against her grandmother's steward. Of all
other things, Mary Haselden most detested cruelty; and she could see in
Steadman's opposition to her wish nothing but the most cold-hearted
cruelty to a poor dependent on his charity.

She went in at the stable door,