on the part of the hostess; then all at once she seemed to throw it off,
rising impulsively, as though the great high room, with the Italian
tiles and the garish gilt furniture, struck the same chill to her as to
Morna before her.

"Come round the garden," said Rachel, quickly. "I am delighted with the
garden, and I think it's really warmer than the house."

Delightful it certainly was, or rather they, for the Normanthorpe
gardens were never spoken of in the singular number by those familiar
with their fame; they had been reconstructed and enlarged by a dead duke
with a fad for botany, and kept up by successors who could not endure
the cold, uncomfortable house. It was said to have been a similar taste
in Mr. Steel which had first attracted him to the place; but as he never
confirmed or contradicted anything that was said of him, and would only
smile when a rumor reached his ears, there was no real foundation for
the report.

The ducal botanist had left behind him the rarest collection of plants
and trees, and a tradition in scientific gardening which had not been
allowed to die; it was neglected Normanthorpe that had loaded the tables
and replenished the greenhouses of seats more favored by the family; and
all this was the more wonderful as a triumph of art over some natural
disadvantages in the way of soil and climate. The Normanthorpe roses,
famous throughout the north of England, were as yet barely budding in
the kindless wind; the blaze of early bulbs was over; but there were the
curious alien trees, and the ornamental waters haunted by outlandish
wildfowl, bred there on the same principle of acclimatization.

"I expect you know the way quite well," said Rachel, as they followed a