and gurgled in baby glee. Cassandra sat silent, rigid, and cold, unheeding the child or the girl, only vaguely hearing the chatter.

“And that will be grand, won’t it, baby? But he is a love, this boy! There is Daneshead Castle now, ma’m. You see it through the trees, but the grounds are so large we have to drive a good bit before we are there.”

The driver turned the ponies’ heads, and they scampered through a high stone gateway and along a smooth road which wound through a dense wood, with green open spaces interspersed, where deer were browsing. All was very beautiful and quiet and sweet, but Cassandra, sitting with wide-open eyes, gravely beautiful, did not see it.

To the girl everything was delightful. She had not the