"He may come back," she continued, in a low voice. "And if he should, and you see him, will you give him a message that was left with me for him. It is just, 'It is all right.'"

"Certainly," said Mr. Clendon, without the least sign of curiosity, though his piercing eyes had been watching her face. "Will you write to me, and tell me how you get on at--what is the name of the place?--ah, yes, Thexford?"

"Why, of course I will. I will write and tell you everything," said Celia, promptly, gratefully.

"And if it should not suit you, and you are not happy there, you will tell me frankly?"

"Oh, yes; for you will still be my mascot, will you not? But I am sure to be happy. I love books. I shall be in Devonshire, and I shall be earning all this money. Mr. Clendon, I am the very luckiest girl in the world."

"And the best, I am sure," he said, gently. "Now, I will go down to the bank with you, if you will let me, and see that you get this money all right."

This was the last straw. She could not keep back her tears. She hurried into her coat and hat, and they went out together. As they descended the stairs, they happened to pa.s.s the little chorus girl and the grim old lady, and Celia could not help nodding and smiling at them. The chorus girl smiled back, and even the grim old lady's frown relaxed as she bowed in stately fashion.

"I'm so happy, that I could shake hands with everybody," said Celia. "I feel as if I must make friends with everyone I meet."

Then suddenly the happiness fled from her face, her eyes grew dark and sad; for at that instant she thought of the young man, the fugitive flying from justice. Where was he? What was he doing? Oh, if he would only come back and get the message!

The polite and amiable cashier at the bank handed over ten bright sovereigns, and with these in the purse clasped in her hand Celia returned to the Buildings, to engage in a fight with Mr. Clendon over the sum which he declared was all that was due to him. But it was settled at last, though scarcely to Celia's satisfaction.

"I'd come to see you off to-morrow," he said, as he held her hand at parting, "but I have an early rehearsal. Good-bye, and G.o.d bless you,"

he added, in a very low voice.

When he had gone Celia mopped her eyes and finished her packing, and the next morning a taxi bore her from the Buildings. She looked out of the window as long as the huge and grimy place remained in sight, and she sighed when it had disappeared. In a sense she still belonged to The Jail; for there had been no time to dispose of her furniture, and she was so rich that she felt justified in keeping on the room for a while.

The rent was only a few shillings a week, and she could well afford to pay it, at any rate until she had decided to sell the furniture. At the bottom of her heart was the desire to keep it, for the sake of its a.s.sociation: perhaps they would let her have it at Thexford Hall?

The journey, which no doubt most of the pa.s.sengers considered a long one, was to Celia a delightful experience, for she had been immured in London long enough to enjoy the change. Her heart beat fast and her breath came quickly, with suppressed excitement and a touch of anxiety, as the train drew up to the small station of Thexford. On the platform stood a tall footman, and as she alighted he came up, touched his hat, and spoke her name. The station-master and the porter were in attendance also, and all three received her as if she were a person of consequence.

The footman led the way to a landaulette car, touched his hat again as he closed the door on her, and the car glided off, carrying Celia still nearer to the unknown.

They ran through a beautiful, undulating country, dotted here and there with farms. Then the way grew wilder. They pa.s.sed across a stretch of moorland, turned into an avenue guarded by huge iron gates, and, mounting quickly, stopped before an old red brick mansion, the size and grandeur of which filled Celia with awe. The great door opened, and a footman, behind him a middle-aged lady in a black silk dress, stood ready to receive Celia.

"I am the housekeeper--Mrs. Dexter," said the lady, pleasantly. "I am afraid you have had a wearisome journey, Miss Grant. Let me take you to your room at once."

They crossed a large hall, lit by the afternoon sun, which, streaming through a window of stained gla.s.s, poured flashes of vari-coloured light on the antique furniture, the men in armour, the trophies and pictures on the wall. Mrs. Dexter led the way up a broad flight of stairs to a room on the first floor, a room so large and beautiful that Celia had difficulty in repressing an exclamation.

"Is this for me?" she could not help asking.

"Yes," replied Mrs. Dexter, "unless you wish to change it. There are plenty of rooms vacant, unfortunately."

"Does no one live here?" asked Celia, with astonishment.

"Only myself and the other servants," replied Mrs. Dexter. "The Marquess is enormously rich, probably one of the richest n.o.blemen in England. Of course, some of the rooms, the state-rooms, are kept shrouded; but they could be prepared almost at an hour's notice--though we might not get that," she added, with a smile. "I hope you will not feel dull and lonely. You have come from London, where everything is so bright and gay."

Celia thought of the Jail and smiled.

"We are rather isolated here," continued Mrs. Dexter. "There is the village, of course; but we have very few neighbours. The nearest house of any consequence, Lensmore Grange, is nearly two miles away. Didn't you know that you would be alone here? Oh, I hope you won't mind, for I had so looked forward to having someone in the house."

"No, no," said Celia, quickly, and she smiled again, rea.s.suringly. "I think I rather like it; and if I didn't, I should remain, for I am quite poor, and this situation means so much to me."

This little speech completed Celia's conquest of the good-natured housekeeper.

"We must try to make it as cheerful as we can for you, my dear--I mean, Miss Grant," she corrected herself.

Celia shook her head.

"No, no," she said. "I think it is very kind of you to speak to me so nicely, to be so good to me, before you know I'm worth it. I am sure that we shall--like each other, and that I shall be very happy here."

"I hope so. I'll do all I can," said Mrs. Dexter, evidently moved by Celia's warm response. "Now I'll send you up some tea, and if you're not tired I will show you the house when you have rested."

In a very short time a maid, neatly dressed in black alpaca, with cap with white strings, brought up the tea. Celia noticed that the salver and the service were of silver. It was a very luxurious tea; the maid was respectful, but pleasantly sympathetic. Said she:

"Shall I put away your things after tea, miss, or now at once? I am to wait on you."

"Oh, that's very nice," said Celia. "You will not have much trouble, at any rate, with my things," she added, with a laugh. "For I have very few."

"Yes, miss," said the maid. "Fashions change so soon, don't they?"

It was beautifully done, and Celia laughed again, appreciatively. The place had seemed to her a kind of Paradise, and certainly it was inhabited, judging by the specimens she had seen, by persons of angelic amiability. She was so excited that she could scarcely drink her tea, and when Mrs. Dexter reappeared, she sprang up all eagerness. For half an an hour she went from room to room, almost speechless with admiration and a delighted awe. It was her first experience of a house of the size and grandeur of Thexford Hall, and almost at every step she took she was trying to realize that she was actually going to live there. And to be paid 150 per annum for doing so!

"Now I'll show you the library," said Mrs. Dexter. "Naturally, that will interest you more than anything else, though our state-rooms are considered to be very fine. Indeed, the drawing-room, with the Inigo chimneypieces, is said to be unique. This is the library."

She opened a thick mahogany door, and as Celia crossed the threshold an exclamation of ecstatic delight escaped her lips. And not without cause; for the Thexford library is a famous one. Celia was not unduly impressed by the number of the books, though the collection is by no means a small one, for she had spent weeks and months at the British Museum Reading Room; but the subdued splendour of the room, its vaulted roof, its ebony bookcases, enriched by Wedgwood plaques, the great fireplace, with its marble mantelpiece rising to the very ceiling, kept her for a minute or two dumb with amazement.

"No doubt you will spend a great deal of your time here," said Mrs.

Dexter. "I have had the fire lit; we burn wood only in the larger rooms." She nodded towards the great logs glowing between the brazen dogs and giving the room not only warmth but an air of comfort and homeliness. "I hope you will find everything you want; but if not, you have only to ask for it. His lordship sent me special instructions that I was to provide you with everything you required."

"As if anyone could want anything more than there is here," said Celia, with a smile and upraised brows. "The Marquess must be a very kind man; he has been so good and thoughtful."

"He is," said Mrs. Dexter. "But people of his rank always are kind to those in their service. At least, that is my experience. You have not seen his lordship?"

"No," replied Celia. "I should like to do so. I should like to try to thank him for his kindness to me."

Mrs. Dexter smiled.

"I don't think he would like that, my dear. Great people don't like being thanked. At least, that's my experience," she repeated. "I will show you his lordship's portrait, if you like," she said, as they pa.s.sed into the hall. "It is growing dark here; that painted window keeps out the light."

She switched on the electric light, and directed Celia's attention to the row of family portraits.

"I'll tell you who they all are some day," she said. "That is the present Marquess, at the end there."

Celia went to it and looked at it with interest.

"He has a nice face," she said.

"Yes, it is a good-looking family, as you see," said Mrs. Dexter, with a smile.

Celia's eyes wandered from the portrait of the Marquess to the one hanging next to it. It was the picture of a young man dressed in riding kit. He was a handsome lad, with a dare-devil look in his dark eyes, a hint of wildness, of recklessness and defiance, in the carriage of his head, the curve of his lips.

"That is a very beautiful picture," said Celia.