BY MAUD HEIGHINGTON.
The Priory was a fine, rambling old house, which had recently come into Jack Cheriton's possession through the death of a parsimonious relative.
Part of the building only had been kept in repair, while the remainder had fallen into decay, and was, in fact, only a picturesque ruin.
The Cheritons' first visit to their newly acquired property was a sort of reconnoitre visit. They had come from Town for a month's holiday, bringing with them Thatcher—little Mollie's nurse—as general factotum.
They had barely been in the house an hour when a telegram summoned Thatcher to her mother's deathbed, and a day or two later urgent business recalled Jack to Town.
"I'll just call at the Lodge and get Mrs. Somers to come up as early as she can this morning, and stay the night with you, so you will not be alone long," he called as he hurried off.
His wife and Mollie watched him out of sight, and then returned to the breakfast-room—the little one amusing herself with her doll, while her mother put the breakfast things together.
Millicent Cheriton was no coward, but an undefinable sense of uneasiness was stealing over her. The Priory was fully half an hour's walk from the Lodge, which was the nearest house. Still further off, in the opposite direction, stood a large building, the nature of which they had not yet discovered.
Jack had never left her even for one night since their marriage—and now she had not even Thatcher left to bear her company.
"Mrs. Somers will soon be here," she said in a comforting tone to Mollie, who, however, was too intent upon her doll to notice, and certainly did not share her mother's uneasiness.