“Dances!” echoed Mr. Bradfield, dubiously. “Is she dull down here, then? I hope she is not too fond of balls and gaiety?”
“Not more fond than a girl ought to be,” answered Mrs. Abercarne, promptly. She had no notion of tying her daughter to a man who would not let her enjoy herself as she liked. If Mr. Bradfield wanted a young wife with the tastes of an old one, he must give up all thought of marrying Chris. “She is a good waltzer, and loves a dance.”
Mr. Bradfield looked rather morose, rather crestfallen.
“Well,” he said at last, “I’ll give a ball at Christmas. The worst of it is, that a host of my confounded relations will insist upon coming, and—and if they have their suspicions roused, there’ll be the —— to pay!”
“Then, if you are so much afraid of your relations, Mr. Bradfield, I should study them by all means,” said Mrs. Abercarne, loftily, as she left him upon the excuse that she had some work to do.
He growled to himself that he would have nothing more to do than he was obliged with either arrogant mother or flighty daughter; but he failed lamentably to keep his resolution. The girl’s pretty face and lively manners had enslaved him, and try as he would, this middle-aged gentleman could not conquer the foolish longing to become the husband of a woman twenty-five years younger than himself.
Meanwhile, Chris was unconsciously doing her utmost to keep alive the admiration of her elderly admirer, by being as happy as the day was long. And as happiness is becoming, the glimpses Mr. Bradfield caught of her bright face and lithe figure were daily more tantalising. Mr. Bradfield was not vain enough to think that he should get this beautiful young girl to fall in love with him, at any rate before marriage. He reckoned on the absence of rivalry, and on her great and increasing affection for her new home. Already she knew every object in Mr Bradfield’s collection by heart, and could have found her way blindfold into any corner of the grounds.
There was one exception, and it galled her. To the west of the house the grounds were very open, for the flower-garden was on that side, and the trees had been cut down in order to get more sun on the borders. On the south, towards the sea, a lawn sloped gently down from the house to the outer fence On the north side was the carriage drive, and more flower-beds. But the grounds on the east side she had been unable to explore, as they were cut off from the rest by a light ornamental iron fence, and two gates, one on the north side and one on the south, which were kept locked.
She had gone so far as to ask one of the under gardeners to let her go through; but he had respectfully referred her to the head gardener, whereupon she had given up her design as hopeless, divining, as she did, that he would refer her to Mr. Bradfield, and that Mr. Bradfield would make some excuse to prevent her going through. For the girl knew very well, in spite of the frank manner in which he spoke of the east wing and its occupant, that there was some sort of mystery, some secret, big or little, connected with Mr. Richard, and she believed that it was on account of the madman’s presence in the east wing that the grounds on that side of the house were closed. She thought she would trust to her chances of getting inside those gates without asking anybody’s permission. They must be unlocked sometimes, and as she was always about the grounds, she had only to wait for her opportunity.
Of course she was right. The opportunity came one morning, when one of the gardeners had gone through the north gate with a wheel-barrow, leaving the key in the gate behind him.