LITMIR.BIZ

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did, missy, he did!"

      "Do you know the reason?"

      "I am not in your father's confidence, missy."

      "That is strange, seeing that you have been with him for over twenty years, Durban."

      "For twenty-four years, missy."

      "You never told me the exact time before, Durban."

      The man shrugged his shoulders. "You never asked me, missy."

      "That is true." Beatrice leaned back again in her chair, and remembered that she and Durban had talked but little about the past. "I should like to know about my mother," she said after a pause.

      "There is nothing to know, missy. She married master--and died."

      "I was then about a year old?"

      "Yes, missy."

      "I am twenty-five now, and you have been with Mr. Alpenny for four-and-twenty years; so it seems, Durban, that you first came here with my mother, and remained in Mr. Alpenny's service."

      "It is so, missy; I remained for your sake."

      "Then you were my mother's servant?"

      Durban's face might have been that of a wax doll for all the expression it showed. "I was, missy."

      "And you know all about my parents?"

      "What there is to know, missy, which is very little. You have never asked about them before; why do you question me now?"

      Beatrice mused. "I hardly know," she confessed. "I suppose Mr. Paslow's remark about the Black Patch, whatever that may be, made me ask now. Mr. Alpenny was afraid when Mr. Paslow spoke."

      "So you said before, missy; and, as I replied, I do not know the reason at all. I am simply a servant."

      "And my friend," said Beatrice, extending her hand.

      Durban's face lighted up with passionate devotion, and his dark eyes blazed with light. Falling on one knee he imprinted a reverential kiss on the small white hand: "I love you with all my heart, missy. I love you as a father--as a mother; as the Great God Himself, do I love you, my dear mistress."

      "Then you will help me?"

      "You have but to ask, and I obey," said Durban simply, and rose to his feet with a light bound, strangely out of keeping with his stout person. "What would you have?"

      "The key of the little gate."

      Durban stared, for Beatrice was making a very serious request. There were two gates to The Camp, a large one opening on to the lane, and a smaller one hidden in a corner of the wall, through which admittance could be gained to a narrow woodland path, which arrived, after devious windings, at the cross-roads. Alpenny's clients usually entered from the lane, but were always dismissed through the--so to speak--secret path. The miser kept the key of this small gate, and, indeed, of the larger one also, so that if any one had to go out, or come in, Alpenny had to be applied to. It was therefore no easy matter for Durban to oblige his young mistress.

      "Why do you want the key, missy?"

      Beatrice did not answer at once. It suddenly crossed her mind that if she acknowledged bow she intended to question Vivian about the Black Patch, that Durban would make some difficulty over obtaining the key. After his admission that he knew nothing, she had no reason to think that he would raise any objections; but the thought came uninvited, and she obeyed it. Wishing to tell the truth, and yet keep Durban in the dark as to her real errand, she determined to go to the Grange and see Dinah; then she could meet Vivian there, and could question him at her leisure. "Miss Paslow is engaged," she said suddenly.

      Durban nodded and grinned. "To young Mr. Snow," he replied. "I saw."

      "Well, I want to go to Convent Grange this evening at six, to see Miss Paslow, and talk over the matter."

      Durban shook his head. "Master is angry with Mr. Paslow for some reason, and will not let you go. Besides, at night----" Durban shook his head again very sagely.

      "That's just it," said Beatrice, rising; "I know that my father would object, therefore I wish to slip out of the small gate secretly, and return about nine; he will never know."

      "He will never know, certainly, missy; but the way to Convent Grange is dark and lonely."

      "Not on a summer night; the moon is out, and there will be plenty of people on the road."

      "Would you like me to come, missy?"

      "If you will," assented Beatrice carelessly. She would rather have gone alone, but since the Grange was now her goal, and not the Witch Oak, Durban's presence did not matter. "But there is no need."

      "Oh, I think so; there will be a storm to-night, and then it will grow dark. Besides, people may not be about, and the path to Convent Grange is lonely. I shall come also."

      "Very good; and the key----

      "I can get it. Master keeps it hanging up in the counting-house, but I can get it." Durban grinned and nodded, and then was about to go away, when he suddenly stopped, and his dark face grew serious. "One thing tell me, missy, and do not be angry."

      "I could never be angry with you, Durban. What is it?"

      "Do you love Mr. Paslow, missy?"

      "Yes," replied Beatrice without hesitation. She knew that whatever she said to her faithful servant would never be repeated by him.

      "And does he love you?"

      This time she coloured. "I think so--I am not sure," was her faint reply, as she cast down her eyes.

      Durban came a step nearer. "Does he love any one else?" he asked.

      Beatrice raised her head sharply, and sent a flaming glance towards the questioner. "What do you mean?"

      "If he doesn't love you, does he love any one else?" persisted Durban.

      Beatrice twisted her hands. "I am sure he loves me, and no one else!" she cried passionately. "I can see it in his eyes--I can read it in his face. Yet he--yet he--oh!" she broke off, unwilling to remark upon Paslow's strange, wavering wooing, to a servant, even though that servant was one who would readily have died to save her a moment's pain. "Do you think he loves any one else?" she asked evasively.

      "No." Durban's eyes were fixed on her face. "I have no reason to think so. If he loves my missy, he can never be fond of other women; but if he plays you false, missy "--Durban's face grew grim and darker than ever--"you have a dog who can bite."

      "No! no!" said Beatrice, alarmed--since Durban could make himself unpleasant on occasions, and, from the look on his face, she feared for Vivian--"he loves me, and me only; I am sure of that!"

      The man's face cleared. "Then we will go to the Grange this evening, and you can see him."

      "But if my stepfather hates him, Durban, he will place some obstacle in the way, should Mr. Paslow ask me to marry him."

      "If he asks you to be his wife, you shall marry him, missy."

      "But my father----"

      "He will say nothing."

      "Are you sure? When Mr. Alpenny takes an idea into his head----"

      "He will take no idea of stopping your marriage, missy. You shall be happy. I promised him that."

      "Promised who?"

      "Your real father," said Durban, and departed without another word. It would seem as though he were unwilling to be questioned. Beatrice began to think that there was some mystery connected with her parents, which Durban knew, but which Durban would not reveal.

       CHAPTER III

      MR. ALPENNY'S PROPOSAL

      Shortly after

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