“Who is that girl?” asked Janet.

“Undine,” he coolly replied.

“She certainly appeared on the bridge,” said his mother, “but I should think Undine’s colouring had been less radiant-—more of the blue and white.”

“She had not a whiter skin nor bluer eyes,” said Allen, “nor made herself more ridiculous either.  Did you ever see such hair, mother?  Hullo, Elfie.  There she is, peeping in at the window, just as Undine did; Come in!” he cried at the door.  “No, not she,” as he returned baffled; “she is off again!”

“But, Allen, who is she?  Not Farmer Gould’s daughter.”

“Of course not.  Don’t you know she was fished up in a net, and belonged to a palace under the ocean full of pearls and diamonds.  She took such a fancy to me that no power on earth would make her go to Church with the rest.  She ran away, and hid, and when they were all gone she came out and curled herself up at my feet and chattered, till I happened to offend her majesty, and off she went like a shot.  I’m only thankful that she did not make her pearly teeth meet in my finger in true Undine fashion.”

“But who is she, really?”

“I can’t quite make out.  They call her Elfie, and she calls them grandpapa, and uncle and aunt, but she has been sitting here complaining of everything being cold and dull, and talking about seas and islands, palm-trees, and coral caves, and humming birds, yes, and black slaves, and strings of pearls, so that if she is romancing, like Armine and Babie, she does it uncommonly naturally.”

They saw no more of this mysterious little being, and the family soon returned from Church.  The father was a fine, old-fashioned yeoman, the son had the style of a modern farmer, and the wife was so quiet, sensible, and matronly as to be almost ladylike.  Her two little girls were dressed as well as Essie and Ellie, but all were essentially commonplace.  They were very kind and friendly, anxious that Allen should stay as long as was good for him, as well as pressing in their hospitality to the two ladies.  Mr. Gould was very anxious to drive them home in his gig, though he allowed that the road was very rough unless you went through Belforest Park, and that he never did.

This was surprising, for Belforest had always seemed as free as the turnpike-road, and River Hollow was apparently part of the estate, but there was an air of discouraging questions, so Carey suspected quarrels and asked none.

She was enlightened the next day when Colonel Brownlow brought his phaeton to fetch Allen home over the smooth park road.  He told her that the Goulds were freeholders who had owned River Hollow from time immemorial, though each successive lord of Belforest tried to buy them out.  The alienation between them and Mr. Barnes, the present master, had however much stronger grounds than these.  His nephew and intended heir has stolen a match with the old man’s pretty daughter, and this had never been forgiven.  The young couple had gone out to the West Indian isles, where the early home of her husband had been, and where he held some government office, and there fell a victim to the climate.  Old Mr. Gould had gone home to fetch his daughter and her child, but the former had died before he reached her, and he had only brought back the little girl about two years ago.