“I don’t know except from Hannah herself, as he sees no one.  I was there yesterday, but he would not allow me to enter his room.  I am told that he has taken a fancy that no one shall go into his bedroom but Hannah and the doctor.  That looks as if his mind might be a little unsettled.”

Instantly there came back to Burton’s mind what his aunt had said to him on her dying-bed:  “There is a secret between them, but never try to discover it, lest it should affect you, too.  There may be disgrace in it.”  Years had passed since Burton heard these words, and much good fortune had come to him.  He had married Geraldine Grey, and had become president of a bank; he had increased in wealth and distinction, until no one stood higher on the social platform of Boston than he did.  He had been to the Legislature twice and to Congress once, and was the Hon. Burton Jerrold, respected by every one, and, what to his narrow mind was better still, he was looked upon as an aristocrat of the bluest type.  None of his friends had ever seen the queer old hermit at the farm-house, or Hannah either for that matter, for she had seldom been in Boston since Grey was a baby, and on the rare occasions when she did go she only passed the day, and had her lunch in the privacy of Mrs. Geraldine’s room.  Once or twice a year, as was convenient, Burton had been to the farm-house to see his father, whom he always found the same silent, brooding man, with hair as white as snow, and shoulders so bent that it was difficult to believe he had ever been upright.  And so, gradually, Burton had ceased to wonder at his father’s peculiarities and had forgotten his suspicions; but now they returned to him again, and he shivered as there swept suddenly over him one of those undefinable presentiments which sometimes come to us, and for which we cannot account.

“What time is Hannah coming?” he asked.

“I hardly know,” Lucy replied; “the boy who stays here to do the outdoor work is to bring her as soon as she can leave her father, who will have no one with him in his room during her absence.  He is very anxious to see Grey, but I doubt if he will even let him into the bedroom.”

During this conversation Grey had listened intently, and now he exclaimed;

“I have it.  My dinner will taste better if I see grandpa first, and show him my Alpenstock, with all those names burned on it.  I mean to drive over after Aunt Hannah myself.  It will be such fun to surprise them both.”

“Grey, are you crazy to think of going out in this storm?” Mrs. Jerrold exclaimed.

But Grey persisted, and, pointing to the window, said: 

“It is not snowing half as fast as it did; and look, there’s a bit of blue sky.  I can go, can’t I, Aunt Lucy?”

“Ye-es, if Tom is willing,” Lucy said, a little doubtfully; for she stood somewhat in awe of Tom, who did not like to harness oftener than was necessary.