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of the Deverils throughout the ages!’
    ‘No, hang it, Ju!’ expostulated her brother. ‘Can’t have been! I mean, it’s a Priory! That’s the same as a monastery, ain’t it? Dissolution of the monasteries – well, I don’t precisely remember when that was, but the thing is there can’t have been any Deverils living there before it – unless, of course – No, that won’t fit!’ he decided, adding knowledgeably: ‘Celibacy of the clergy, you know. So that’s a hum!’
    In spite of himself Adam laughed. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it is. The first Deveril of whom we have any very precise information settled in Leicestershire. There has been a Deveril at Fontley only since 1540 – and a shocking rogue he was, from all I can discover!’
    ‘Very likely,’ agreed Mr Oversley sagely. ‘Seems to me that most of those old fellows were regular thatchgallows. Well, only think of the Oversley who made our fortunes! When he wasn’t playing least in sight he was pretty well swimming in lard, wasn’t he, Papa?’
    ‘Alas, too true!’ said his father, twinkling.
    ‘Oh, don’t talk so, don’t talk so!’ Julia broke in. ‘How can you turn everything to jest? Adam, you didn’t mean it! Strangers at Fontley? Oh, no! every feeling revolts! The groves and the alleys! The chapel ruins where I’ve so often sat, feeling the past all about me, so close that I could almost fancy myself a part of it, and see the ghosts of those dead Deverils who lived there!’ She paused, looking from one to the other, and cried passionately: ‘Ah, you don’t understand! Not even you, Adam! How is it possible? Charlie doesn’t, I know, but you – ?’
    ‘I should rather think I don’t!’ said her brother. ‘If you ever saw a ghost you’d run screeching for your life! What’s more, I remember those ruins quite as well as you do, and very likely better! Whenever we stayed at Fontley we used to play at hide-and-seek amongst ’em, and capital sport it was!’
    ‘There were other days,’ Julia said, in a low tone. ‘You choose to pretend that you don’t care, Adam, but I know you too well to be hoaxed! You were used to partake of all my sentiments: this reserve has been forced on you by Papa!’
    Adam replied steadily: ‘I do care. It would be absurd to pretend that I didn’t. If I seem to you reserved it’s because I care too much to talk about it.’
    She said, with quick sympathy: ‘Oh, how horrid I am! how stupid! I understand you – of course I understand you! We won’t speak of it, or even think of it! As for repining, I shan’t do so, I promise you! Could you be happy in a cottage? I could! How often I have longed to live in one – with white walls, and a thatched roof, and a neat little garden! We’ll have a cow, and I’ll learn to milk, and make butter and cheese. And some hens, and a bee-hive, and some pigs. Why, with these, and our books, and a pianoforte, we shall be as rich as nabobs, and want nothing to complete our felicity!’
    ‘Oh, won’t you?’ struck in her unappreciative brother. ‘Well, if you mean to cook the meals Lynton will precious soon want something more! And who’s to kill the pigs, and muck out the henhouse?’
    This sardonic interpolation went unheeded. Julia was rapt in contemplation of the picture she had conjured up; and Adam, tenderly amused though he was, felt too deeply moved to laugh. He could only shake his head; and it was left to Lord Oversley to bring his daughter down to earth, which he did, by saying briskly: ‘Very pretty, my dear, but quite impractical. I hope Adam can find something better to do than to keep pigs. Indeed, I have no doubt he will, and all the more easily without encumbrance! No one is more sorry than I am that things have turned out as they have, but you must be a good girl, and understand that marriage is out of the question. Adam feels this as strongly as I do, so you need not think me a tyrant, puss!’
    She listened with whitening cheeks, and turned