“I always fancy it is,” she replied, “though it is too early in the year yet for the scent—the gorse! O Regina! you should see it when the gorse and heather are out!”
“Yes,” I agreed. “It must be lovely. But do tell me,” I went on, for my thoughts in those days were very erratic, “shall we pass the Grim House on our way? And O Isabel! do tell me what has happened there! You alluded to something in your letter.”
A slight, the very slightest touch on my foot, and a glance at my friend’s face checked me. I remembered that we were not alone, for Maple was in the waggonette with us, and I felt ashamed of my stupid indiscretion.
“You mean Grimsthorpe?” said Isabel quietly. “No, we do not pass that way. Not that there is much to see if we did; it is a very ugly house, though an old one. Indeed the houses about here are rarely picturesque, though I think ours is pretty inside, and so is the vicarage. There are no other at all large houses near us. Millflowers, you know, is a very tiny village. Did I ever tell you what some people believe to be the origin of the name?” she added with a smile. But I could see that my questions had made her a little uncomfortable and that she was anxious to change the conversation.
“No,” I replied, feeling rather small. “I have wondered about it once or twice. It is an odd name.”
“There is a legend,” Isabel said, “that long, long ago some French refugees settled in this out-of-the-way part of the world, and set to work to distil ‘scented waters’ from the sweet-smelling plants and flowers—there is any quantity of thyme about here—they found, and that to their production they gave the name of ‘Millefleurs’—a name still used for a well-known scent, of course. At that time there were only two or three cottages where our village now is, and the story goes that these poor French people’s secret gave its name to the place, getting corrupted into ‘Millflowers.’”
“How curious! I wonder if it is true,” I said.
Isabel seemed dubious as to this.
“Papa says it sounds rather as if the story had been made up to suit the name,” she said.
“Then is your own house not very old?” I inquired.