‘About three weeks,’ faltered Mary.  ’But it is more than a week now since I was in the garden.  It was quite by accident that I first went there.  Perhaps I ought to explain.’

And Mary, not being gainsayed, went on to describe that first afternoon when she had seen the old man brooding in the sun.  She drew quite a pathetic picture of his joyless solitude, whilst all nature around and about him was looking so glad in the spring sunshine.  There was a long silence, a silence of some minutes, when she had done; and Lady Maulevrier lay with lowered eyelids, deep in thought.  Mary began to hope that she had touched her grandmother’s heart, and that her request would be granted:  but she was soon undeceived.

’I am sorry to be obliged to refuse you a favour, Mary, but I must stand by Steadman,’ said her ladyship.  ’When I gave Steadman permission to shelter his aged kinsman in my house, I made it a condition that the old man should be kept in the strictest care by himself and his wife, and that nobody in this establishment should be troubled by him.  This condition has been so scrupulously adhered to that the old man’s existence is known to no one in this house except you and me; and you have discovered the fact only by accident.  I must beg you to keep this secret to yourself.  Steadman has particular reasons for wishing to conceal the fact of his uncle’s residence here.  The old man is not actually a lunatic.  If he were we should be violating the law by keeping him here.  He is only imbecile from extreme old age; the body has outlived the mind, that is all.  But should any officious functionary come down upon Fellside, this imbecility might be called madness, and the poor old creature whom you regard so compassionately, and whose case you think so pitiable here, would be carried off to a pauper lunatic asylum, which I can assure you would be a much worse imprisonment than Fellside Manor.’

‘Yes, indeed, grandmother,’ exclaimed Mary, whose vivid imagination conjured up a vision of padded cells, strait-waist-coats, murderously-inclined keepers, chains, handcuffs, and bread and water diet, ’now I understand why the poor old soul has been kept so close—­why nobody knows of his existence.  I beg Steadman’s pardon with all my heart.  He is a much better fellow than I thought him.’

‘Steadman is a thoroughly good fellow, and as true as steel,’ said her ladyship.  ’No one can know that so well as the mistress he has served faithfully for nearly half a century.  I hope, Mary, you have not been chattering to Fraeulein or any one else about your discovery.’

‘No, grandmother, I have not said a word to a mortal, but——­’

’Oh, there is a “but,” is there?  I understand.  You have not been so reticent in your letters to Mr. Hammond.’

’I tell him all that happens to me.  There is very little to write about at Fellside; yet I contrive to send him volumes.  I often wonder what poor girls did in the days of Miss Austen’s novels, when letters cost a shilling or eighteen pence for postage, and had to be paid for by the recipient.  It must have been such a terrible check upon affection.’