you are in the country, what can you expect? We
can cut down the hedge. I like the place myself, and it is in good
repair, for the owner has only just left it. I must tell you about
him, for there is quite a story about him. Old Mrs. Tucker was his
cook. He is an eccentric widower, and has a brother with a lot of
property in the neighbourhood. He spends his time in carving,
painting, and writing about old manuscripts. That is one thing you
will like, Clare; all the doors and cupboards in the house are carved
most beautifully, even the low window sills, and mantelpieces. About
four months ago he had a dreadful quarrel with his brother, and told
Mrs. Tucker that he was going abroad till his temper cooled. He stored
all his furniture, and said he would let the house, but only to a
yearly tenant, as he might wish to return again. That is the
disadvantage of the house; but I think he will not be in a hurry to
return. There is an old carved cupboard let into the wall in the room
which was his study, and this he has left locked, and wishes any tenant
to understand that it is not to be opened. They take the house under
this condition.'

'A Bluebeard's cupboard,' said Clare delightedly. 'Why, this is most
interesting. I am longing to take the house now.'

'That is indeed a woman's speech,' said a voice behind her, and a tall
broad-shouldered man laid his hand gently on her shoulder.

Clare turned round, with a pretty pink colour in her cheeks.

'Oh, Hugh, is it you? Come and sit down, and hear about the cottage we
meditate taking. Gwen is our business man, and seems to have found
just the place we wanted.'

Captain Knox took a seat by his betrothed, and was soon hearing about
it all. Then after it was discussed afresh, and he agreed that it
might prove suitable, the other girls slipped away to the inner
drawing-room, and left the young couple alone.

Clare's wistful dreaminess had vanished now, and she was bright and
animated.

'I believe you girls are rejoicing in your sudden downfall,' said
Captain Knox at length; 'I hear no moans now over your lost fortunes.
It is the outside world that is pitying you. "Those poor girls," I
hear on all sides, "after the very marked way in which old Miss Dane
told everybody they would be heiresses at her death. It is most
incomprehensible."'

It is no laughing matter, Hugh,' said Clare gravely. 'We are going to
try and make the best of it; but when we think of Jam