It was a long telegram that Ralph despatched from the village, for he only received a few pence out of the half-sovereign that he placed on the counter. The operator sighed at the prodigious task before him. Then Ralph went off in the direction of the Hall to wait for Mary in the park. It was some time before she came; the children of the villagers passed on their way from school, and presently Slight came along, with something like a frown on his rosy, wrinkled little face. He eyed Ralph with marked disfavour.

"What's this about Miss Mary, Sir Ralph?" he asked. "Perhaps I shouldn't have called you by that name. But Miss Mary has been up to the Hall to say goodbye. She says she is going to London for good, and that she is not coming back again. Going to try to get her own living, or some such foolishness."

"Your manner is not respectful, Slight," Ralph said coldly.

"I can't help it, sir," Slight replied. "Really, I can't. I love Miss Mary as if she had been a child of my own. I taught her to ride, I taught her--but there! If you only knew what a heart of gold she has! And now to go and soil those pretty hands with work. And you could prevent it by holding up your little finger. Thank God, there is no occasion for me to stay at the Hall, for I've saved enough for my old age, though I don't deny that it will be a wrench. And tomorrow the whole lot of us are going to hand in our resignation in a body."

"Indeed, you are not going to do anything of the sort," Ralph said sternly. "Don't let me hear any more of this folly. If you do go, you will not come back again when this present head of the family has gone his way, which will be only a matter of a few months at the outside. I look to you to stop the silly action, Slight. I have given you my word before that this thing is not likely to be permanent. And when you come to know everything, you will see how wisely I have acted in the matter."

Slight's indignation cooled as quickly as it had heated. He scratched his white head in some perplexity. And the look he turned upon Ralph was one of fatherly affection.

"How like your father you do speak, sir," he said. "I suppose you must have your own way as he used to. And if I hadn't been a wicked old rascal these things would never have happened at all. My sin has found me out sorely."

"I am getting tired of this," Ralph said impatiently. "What sin are you alluding to? And Lady Dashwood is always harping on the same string. What wickedness were you two up to in the old days? What does it mean?"

"So her ladyship has not told you, sir?" Slight asked in a whisper. "She never told you about the old Squire and your father's first wife Maria Edgerton? She was the daughter of a farmer across the valley. The most beautiful creature that I ever set eyes on. Well, well, to think that you didn't know."

"I don't know," Ralph said. "My father never spoke of his first wife. And yet I always felt that his love for her was the passion of his life. He was a good husband to my mother, but still--and now you are going to tell me that story, Slight."

"Begging your pardon, sir, I'm not going to do anything of the kind," Slight said shortly. "I couldn't dream of doing anything of the kind without her ladyship's permission. You ask her, and she will tell you everything; indeed you have the right to know. And don't you worry about the servants at the Hall, because they will do exactly as I tell them. Make it as soon as you can, sir, for the old place doesn't seem the same without the lovely face and the blue eyes of Miss Mary looking after us. I'm an old man, and for over fifty years I've served the Dashwoods faithfully, and it does seem rather hard to think that I shall have to go on fawning and cringing to an impostor like the man who calls himself Sir Vincent Dashwood. There won't be much of the fine old cellar left if he stays here any time, I can tell you."

"Patience, Slight," Ralph replied. "It is only a matter of months. Here is Miss Mary coming down the avenue. I shall look after her, I would not have one hair of her head injured. And some day perhaps, Slight, if the fates are good to me, you will be serving me as you served my grandfather, with Miss Mary as mistress of Dashwood by my side. That is my desire. Slight, that is the one great ambition of my life. And you can keep that secret with the rest."

Ralph turned away and joined Mary as she came down the avenue. She tried to smile, but her lips were white and unsteady.

"That is finished," she said, with a brave attempt at cheerfulness. "It is awful to think that I shall never see the dear old place again. But I am not going to give way, I am going to show ............