She and Alured really enjoyed it, and we tried to think we did!  And then Fulk used to stride off on a long solitary walk, or else sit in the porch with his arms across, in a dumb heavy silence, till he saw us looking at him; and then he would shake himself, and go and find Sisson, and discuss every field and beast with him.

At least we thought we should have been at peace here; but one afternoon, when Jaquetta had gone across to the village to see some purchase at the shop, she came back flushed and breathless, and said as she sat down by me, “Oh!  Ursie, Ursie, I met Miss Prior; and she has bought Spinney Lawn.”

She was Hester; it had never meant anyone else amongst us when it was said in that voice.  Fulk, when we told him, had, it appeared, known it for some days past.  All he said was, “Well! she has every right.”

And when I exclaimed, “Just like a harpy, come to watch our poor child!” he said, “Nonsense.”

But I knew I was right, and sat brooding—­till presently he said, “Put that out of your head, Ursula, or you will not be able to behave properly to her.”

“I don’t see any good in behaving properly to her,” said Jaquetta.  “What business has she to come here?”

“I do not choose to regale the neighbourhood with our family jars”—­ said Fulk, quietly.

And then—­such a ridiculous child as Jaquetta was—­she burst out laughing, and cried, “What a feast they would be!  Preserved crabs, I suppose;” and she brought a tiny curl into the corner of his mouth.

My pride was up, and I remember I answered, “You are right, Fulk.  No one shall say we are jealous, or shrink from the sight of her!”

“When Smith told me that he had no idea who was the bidder, or he would not have suffered it,” said Fulk, “I told him I could have no possible objection!”

And so we endured it in our pride and our dignity.

Lady Hester Lea was the heroine of the neighbourhood.  The romance of the disowned daughter was charming; and I was far too disagreeable to excite any counterbalancing pity.  She was handsome, and everybody raved about her likeness to poor papa and the family portraits; and her Montreal convent had given her manners quite distinct from English vulgarity; or, maybe, her blood told on her bearing, for she was immensely admired for her demeanour, quite as much as for her beauty.

Old Miss Prior—­whom no coldness on my part could check in her assiduous kindness, and nothing would hinder from affectionately telling us whatever we did not want to hear—­kept us constantly informed of the new comer’s triumphs.  Especially she would dwell upon the sensation that Lady Hester produced, and all that the gentlemen said of her.  Her name stood as lady patroness to all the balls and fancy fairs, and archery, that Shinglebay produced; and there was no going to shop there without her barouche coming clattering down the street with the two prancing greys, and poor little Trevor inside, with a looped-up hat and ostrich feather exactly like Alured’s; for by some intention she always dressed him in the exact likeness of his little uncle’s.  I used to think Miss Prior told her, and sedulously prevented her ever seeing his lordship out of his brown holland pinafores, but the same rule still held good.