n them.

"What is it all about?" said Rosamond, as they walked down the
avenue of walnuts leading to the iron gates in the opposite
direction from Sirenwood. "Which of you was _that woman's_ victim?
Was it a sailor love of Miles's? I hope not! That poor little
African might not stand a gay ghost cropping up again."

"Miles is far removed from the conventional sailor."

"Then it is reduced to the grave Raymond."

"I wish I had betrayed nothing."

"Now you may as well proceed to betray the rest, instead of leaving
me to exercise my fancy."

"It is no secret, only such things are best not brought up again.
Camilla Vivian was poor Raymond's grande passion, and you may
imagine what a grief that was to my mother, especially as the poor
brother was then living--one of the most fascinating, dangerous men
I ever saw; and the whole tone of the place was ultra gay and
thoughtless, the most reckless extravagance. However, he was set
upon it, and my mother was forced to consent to the engagement. She
seemed equally devoted to him, till she met Lord Tyrrell at some
country house, and then a quarrel was picked, either by her mother
or herself, about my mother retaining the headship of her own house.
It was a palpable excuse, but it served to break the affair off, and
Raymond was cruelly cut up. My mother made herself everything to
him from that moment, gave up all her former habits to be with him,
sent the little boys to school, and fairly dragged him through the
trouble!"

"How long ago was it?"

"Ten years--yes, ten years. So far as ceasing to care a straw for a
heartless woman like that, he has got over it, no doubt; but it has
made a graver man of him for life, and I doubt whether, but for my
mother's accident, he ever would have married."

"Did you marry for your mother's sake, Julius, or only tell her so?"

"For shame, my Lady Mischief!"

"And do you think the fair Camilla returned with plans that she
finds disconcerted?"

"How can I tell? I have not seen her since I was a lad of
eighteen.--Ah! how d'ye do, Betty?" in a tone of relief; "you've not
seen my wife."

This was the first of a long series of introductions. Compton
Poynsett was a straggling village, with the church, schools, and
Rectory, ten minutes' walk from the park gates. It had not been
neglected, so that Julius had not the doubtful satisfaction of
coming like a missionary or reformer. The church, though not
exactly as with his present