“He has come back,” she said.  “Oh! my dear.”

“How shall you treat him?” asked the girl curiously.

The old lady bent again over her embroidery.

“I think I shall just say nothing.  I hope he will ride this afternoon.  Will you go with him?”

“I think not.  He won’t want anyone.  I know Laurie.”

The other looked up at her sideways in a questioning way, and Maggie went on with a kind of slow decisiveness.

“He will be queer at lunch.  Then he will probably ride alone and be late for tea.  Then tomorrow—­”

“Oh! my dear, Mrs. Stapleton is coming to lunch tomorrow.  Do you think he’ll mind?”

“Who is Mrs. Stapleton?”

The old lady hesitated.

“She’s—­she’s the wife of Colonel Stapleton.  She goes in for what I think is called New Thought; at least, so somebody told me last month.  I’m afraid she’s not a very steady person.  She was a vegetarian last year; now I believe she’s given that up again.”

Maggie smiled slowly, showing a row of very white, strong teeth.

“I know, auntie,” she said.  “No; I shouldn’t think Laurie’ll mind much.  Perhaps he’ll go back to town in the morning, too.”

“No, my dear, he’s staying till Thursday.”

* * * * *

There fell again one of those pleasant silences that are possible in the country.  Outside the garden, with the meadows beyond the village road, lay in that sweet September hush of sunlight and mellow color that seemed to embalm the house in peace.  From the farm beyond the stable-yard came the crowing of a cock, followed by the liquid chuckle of a pigeon perched somewhere overhead among the twisted chimneys.  And within this room all was equally at peace.  The sunshine lay on table and polished floor, barred by the mullions of the windows, and stained here and there by the little Flemish emblems and coats that hung across the glass; while those two figures, so perfectly in place in their serenity and leisure, sat before the open fire-place and contemplated the very unpeaceful element that had just walked upstairs incarnate in a pale, drawn-eyed young man in black.

The house, in fact, was one of those that have a personality as marked and as mysterious as of a human character.  It affected people in quite an extraordinary way.  It took charge of the casual guest, entertained and soothed and sometimes silenced him; and it cast upon all who lived in it an enchantment at once inexplicable and delightful.  Externally it was nothing remarkable.