"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 God 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

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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

association: perhaps they would let her have it at Thexford Hall?

The journey, which no doubt most of the passengers 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 passed 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 glass, 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.




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