‘What did your mother know of Maulevrier Castle?’

The old man did not answer.  He had lapsed into that dream-like condition into which he often sank, when his brain was not stimulated to attention and coherency by his interest in Mary’s narrations.

Mary concluded that this man had once been a servant in the Maulevrier household, perhaps at the place in Herefordshire, and that all his old memories ran in one grove—­the house of Maulevrier.

The freedom of her intercourse with him was undisturbed for about three weeks; and at the end of that time she came face to face with James Steadman as she emerged from the circle of greenery.

‘You here, Lady Mary?’ he exclaimed with an angry look.

‘Yes, I have been sitting talking to that poor old man,’ Mary answered, cheerily, concluding that Steadman’s look of vexation arose from his being detected in the act of harbouring a contraband relation.  ’He is a very interesting character.  A relation of yours, I suppose?’

‘Yes, he is a relation,’ replied Steadman.  ’He is very old, and his mind has long been gone.  Her ladyship is kind enough to allow me to give him a home in her house.  He is quite harmless, and he is in nobody’s way.’

’Of course not, poor soul.  He is only a burden to himself.  He talks as if his life had been very weary.  Has he been long in that sad state?’

‘Yes, a long time.’

Steadman’s manner to Lady Mary was curt at the best of times.  She had always stood somewhat in awe of him, as a person delegated with authority by her grandmother, a servant who was much more than a servant.  But to-day his manner was more abrupt than usual.

‘He spoke of Maulevrier Castle just now,’ said Mary, determined not to be put down too easily.  ‘Was he once in service there?’

‘He was.  Pray how did you find your way into this garden, Lady Mary?’

’I came through the stable.  As it is my grandmother’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.’