"Our very own, who watches over the fortunes of the house," said his sister. "At least, that is the tradition. When last heard of, he was wandering about, with his hand uplifted as if in warning. Not very original, is it? And not of much use, unless he will tell us what we are being warned against."
"Have you seen him, Miss Verschoyle?"
"Oh, no. Even he seems to have deserted us now."
"Speak for yourself, Madge," said her brother, stealing a side glance towards Meredith.
"Have you, then, Laurence?" she ejaculated, turning quickly towards him. "I thought you were inclined to make a jest of the monk."
"I am inclined to do that no longer, perhaps."
"Do you mean that you have seen him? You told me nothing about it, Laurence."
"When I knew what a fright it gave you only to imagine you saw him?"
"But I was only ten years old then, you know. I was frightened, Mr. Meredith," she said, turning to him with a smile. "But even then I was quite as curious as frightened; for though I fell upon my knees and hid my face, I begged him not to go until I got sufficiently used to him to be able to ask what I wanted to know."
"Had he not the grace to do that, Miss Verschoyle?"