In a spirit of levity which jarred on him, Alix now recommended her lover to go back to his quarters and have a good sleep; and then, having again passed through the gate and pushed their way up the tunnel, the two young people parted in something very like a tiff.

Dick did not call at Clyffe House the next day, and when he called on the day following, Alix met him in a complaisant mood.  After all, she had no wish to quarrel with him.  And very soon she said, “Going back to what you told me you had seen the other night, Dick, it occurred to me, after you were gone, that it fits in rather curiously with an old story connected with this place.”  And then, at his request, she proceeded to tell him how, some thirty years ago, her grandmother had had a favourite maid, a friendless orphan girl named Barbara, to whom attached a mystery.  Barbara was a very lovely creature of refinement and education above her station, and she had of course numerous admirers.  Young as she was, her discretion was faultless, with the sole exception that her native amiability and desire to please sometimes betrayed her into conduct which meant less than her admirers wished to think it did.  Well, at last Barbara became plighted to a respectable young fisherman, part-owner of a boat sailing from The Greenses, and, though details were vague, it was generally understood that, as a consequence, several hearts were severely damaged.  As Barbara had no relatives, it was arranged by her employer that she should remain in her situation until the wedding-day and should be married from Clyffe House.  Considerable preparations had also been made to do honour to the occasion, when—­judge of the consternation of the inmates of the house!—­upon the morning of the wedding-day Barbara was not to be found.  She was believed to have retired to rest on the previous night as usual, yet her bed had not been slept in.  Nor, although most of her clothes were packed in anticipation of her change of domicile, had she apparently taken anything with her.  Nothing in the least unusual had been observed in her demeanour; nor could the unhappy bridegroom suggest any possible motive for her conduct.  Exhaustive inquiries and exhaustive search were made; but, to cut the story short, nothing had ever again been seen or heard of the fair Barbara to that day.  Her mistress, who had been sincerely attached to her, had long mourned for her, and in after times would often sing her praises.  But, in order to be quite candid, it must be acknowledged that there were others, not a few, who declined to believe that the girl had come to an untimely end; and, who, knowing that she had several suitors, and had sometimes appeared uncertain which to favour, preferred to think that she had changed her mind at the last moment, and, deciding to throw over her fisherman, had made her escape from Clyffe House during the night to join some more eligible swain.  This would have been a desperate step indeed; nor could her conduct in withholding subsequent explanations be absolved of heartlessness.  But, after all, she was the sort of girl who, where no actual misconduct was involved, might easily allow herself to be over-persuaded.  And certainly the tangled skein of love does sometimes present a knot which must be cut rather than untied.