the fortnight which followed the funeral of captain huxham passed quietly enough at the solitary farm. mrs. coppersley went several times to london for the purpose of interviewing her late brother's lawyer, who had his office in cade lane. she said very little to bella when she returned, and on her part bella did not ask questions. had she been more versed in worldly wisdom she would have accompanied her aunt to see the solicitor for herself, so that she might learn what disposition had been made of the property. but bella was an unsophisticated girl, and moreover was so anxiously lamenting the continued absence of cyril that she neglected needful things.

lister had disappeared from the neighbourhood, and bella had neither seen him again nor had she heard from him. considering what had taken place at their last interview, she was inclined to think that cyril had passed out of her life for ever. but something told her that in spite of her unjust accusations he still loved her, and would return. meantime, there was nothing for it but to wait in patience, and to busy herself with her ordinary pursuits. these, however, had lost their savour for the girl, since the whole of her mind was filled with the image of the man she loved.

pence did not fulfil his threat of informing the police at the end of three days. bella waited in dread for the arrival of inspector inglis to ask her questions concerning lister, but the officer never appeared, and as the days glided by she began to think that silas would say nothing. with her aunt she went on sunday to the little bethel, and heard him preach, but he did not seek a private interview with her. even when he delivered his sermons he sedulously avoided her eye, so she deemed that he was ashamed of the wild way in which he had talked. what struck her most about the young man was his wan looks. he seemed to be thinner than ever, and his cheeks had a more hectic flush, while his eyes glittered feverishly, as though he were consumed with an inward fire. but his discourses became more and more powerful and were greatly admired by his congregation, who liked melodramatic religion. mrs. coppersley was especially loud in her expression of approval.

"what a gift," she said to bella, when they returned home on the second sunday through the rapidly-yellowing corn-fields. "he spares no one."

"and that is just what i like least about his sermons," retorted the girl. "as a christian he should be more merciful."

"you don't know anything about it," said mrs. coppersley tartly.

"i know what christ preached," replied bella quietly; "and mr. pence has not the spirit of his preaching."

"in what way, pray?"

"mr. pence does not do as he would be done by. i wonder how he would like to suffer the condemnation which he measures out so freely to other people."

"silas pence is a good man, and no condemnation is possible where he is concerned," cried mrs. coppersley fervently, and bounced into the house.

"in that case he should make allowance for those who are not good."

"not at all," said the elder woman, stating her views uncompromisingly. "the good shall go to heaven, and the wicked to hell: that's scripture."

"as translated by man," finished bella neatly; "but the sermon on the mount, aunt rosamund——"

"bella, you are irreligious," interrupted the lady, removing her hat and placing it on the kitchen-table. "i won't have freethinkers in my house."

bella raised her finely-marked eye-brows. "your house?"

"yes," almost shouted mrs. coppersley violently, for she felt somewhat nervous as to what she was about to say, "my house. i didn't tell you before, as i have a kind heart, but it is time we understood one another. to-night i shall explain myself, so that you may understand your position."

"you shall explain yourself now," said bella, pale but determined.

"i have no time," said her aunt brusquely; "henry is coming to dinner."

"i don't care if mr. vand is coming to dinner twenty times over," said bella, her eyes growing hard with anger. "you have said so much that you must say all, aunt rosamund."

"don't bully and bounce me, miss."

"i shall act exactly as i please, and it is my pleasure that you would explain what you mean."

"i have to lay the cloth and see to the dinner. you know that jane never can cook to henry's liking. i daresay the meat is burnt and the——" mrs. coppersley was about to pass into the scullery where the one small servant, over whom she tyrannised, slaved at the mid-day meal, when bella caught her by the wrist. "how dare you, bella?" cried the stout woman.

"come into the drawing-room, out of jane's hearing," whispered bella fiercely. "i shall not wait another minute for an explanation. this house is either mine or yours."

"very well," cried mrs. coppersley, bouncing towards the kitchen door, "if you will have it, you shall have it. i have tried to spare you, but——"

"go on to the drawing-room, please," interrupted bella imperiously, as she saw the small servant peeping round the corner; "there is no need for us to discuss private matters in public."

"the whole parish shall soon know what i am about to say," snapped mrs. coppersley, and rolled towards the drawing-room.

"rolled" is precisely the word to use in connection with mrs. coppersley's way of walking, for she was an extremely stout, well-fed woman, large-limbed and clumsy. her round, chubby face was rosy and her eyes were as black as her hair. she did not look uncomely, but there was something coarse and plebeian in her appearance. although she was in mourning for her late brother she could not altogether restrain her flamboyant taste, and therefore wore a red feather in the hat she had left in the kitchen, and yellow gloves, which she was now impatiently removing.

outside it was extremely warm and brilliant with sunshine, but in the vast drawing-room the air was pleasantly cool and agreeable. the blinds being blue, only a faint light came through them since they were down, and the cerulean atmosphere was almost religious in its feeling. bella, ever sensitive to the unseen, in spite of her ignorance of psychic phenomenon felt the grave influence, but her aunt, being of a coarser fibre, bounced red-faced and hot into the room, openly cross at having been summoned to what was likely to prove a disagreeable interview.

"henry will be here shortly," she said pettishly, "and he doesn't like to be kept waiting for his meals."

"on this occasion he must wait," said bella dryly, "it will do him good."

"don't speak of henry in that tone, miss; you know he is the most amiable man in the world."

"your speech about his impatience for dinner sounds like it. however, we need converse only for a few minutes. i understood you to say that this house is yours, aunt rosamund."

mrs. coppersley flopped down into one of the emerald arm-chairs and placed her pudgy hands on her stout knees. "it is," she said, glancing round the vari-coloured room with great pride. "the house is mine and the farm is mine, and jabez's income of five hundred a year, well invested, is mine."

bella grew pale. mrs. coppersley spoke with such conviction that she believed her to be telling the truth. "and what is left to me?" she demanded in a low tone, for the shock took away her breath.

"your aunt's love," said mrs. coppersley, in a matter-of-fact way. "jabez asked me to look after you; and so long as you behave yourself i shall do so."

bella passed over this petty speech. "do you mean to say that my father has left everything to you?" she asked pointedly.

"everything," assented mrs. coppersley, with an air of triumph. "jabez wasn't so rich as folk thought him, and although he had enough invested to give him five hundred a year, he had little ready cash. when my late husband died he left me a good sum. jabez borrowed this and added it to his own, so that he might buy bleacres. i agreed, but only on condition that jabez should leave me the whole property when he died. i saw that the will was made, and mr. timson, the cade lane lawyer, is now proving it. when probate is obtained, my dear," ended mrs. coppersley amiably, "i shall marry henry and will be happy for evermore."

"what about me?" gasped bella, utterly overwhelmed.

"you can stay here until you marry," said mrs. coppersley coldly, "as i am a christian woman, and wish to obey jabez's request. he left you to me as a legacy, so i will look after you; only behave yourself."

"do i ever do anything else?" asked bella bitterly.

"oh, dear me, yes," returned her aunt complacently. "you run after men."

bella rose with a flushed cheek. "that is a lie."

mrs. coppersley rose, also in a violent rage and quite glad to vent her petty spite on one who could not retaliate. "oh, i'm a liar, am i?" she said shrilly. "you call me a liar when i am only keeping you out of charity——"

"stop!" bella flung up her hand and spoke firmly. "you are not doing that, aunt rosamund. in one way or another you have persuaded my father into leaving you what is rightfully mine. but i shall see mr. timson, and read the will; you shall not have it your own way altogether."

mrs. coppersley snapped her large finger and thumb. "go and see the will, by all means," she scoffed in a coarse voice; "you won't find any flaw in it, as i was careful that it should be properly drawn up. i have a perfect right to the farm, as my money helped to buy it."

"so be it. keep the farm, but give me the income. that, at least, you have no right to retain."

"i have the right of possession, which is nine points of the law, miss," said mrs. coppersley violently, "and the will is plain enough. jabez did right to leave the money to me, and not to a chit of a girl like you, who would waste your father's hard-earned money on that wastrel from london."

"of whom are you talking?"

"don't pretend ignorance, miss, for i won't have it. i mean mr. lister, as he calls himself, though i daresay he is no better than he should be."

"you have no right to say that."

"i'll say what i like and do what i like. remember i am mistress; and as you depend entirely on me, miss, i order you to give up all idea of this lister scamp and marry silas pence, who is——"

"i shall certainly not marry silas pence, or anyone but cyril," said bella in icy tones. "you have no right to interfere in——"

mrs. coppersley stamped and interrupted in her turn. "no right! no right!" she bellowed furiously. "i have every right. this house is mine, and the food you eat is mine. if i turned you out you would have to starve, for i am certain that your fine lover would have nothing to do with you. he's a bad man; your father said so."

"my father knew nothing of mr. lister."

"he knew that he was bad; he said as much. why"—mrs. coppersley pointed a fat finger towards the round table in the centre of the room—"there's a photograph of him, and in a silver frame, too. what extravagance. how dare you spend my money on silver frames?"

she dashed forward to seize the photograph of cyril, which bella had brought down from her bedroom and had left unthinkingly on the table. doubtless mrs. coppersley would have destroyed the portrait, but that bella secured it before the good lady could reach the table. "mr. lister gave me this," said bella, putting it behind her back; "frame and all; it is mine."

"and you dare to bring into the house the picture of a wicked profligate whom your father hated," roared mrs. coppersley, her red face shining with perspiration and her little eyes flashing with wrath.

"my father being so good himself," said bella ironically, and feeling quite cool. "mr. lister is not a profligate, aunt rosamund, and you are a bad woman!"

mrs. coppersley gasped like a dying dolphin. "me a bad woman!" she cried, puffing out her cheeks ludicrously; "me, when henry says that i am the best woman in the world. and i'd have you know, bella, that i'm a lady and no woman, miss—so there."

the girl, in spite of her grief and dismay, laughed right out. "even a lady must be a woman," she observed sarcastically.

"leave my house! leave my house," panted mrs. coppersley.

"no. i shall remain here until i know if the will is correct. i shall stay here, as i say, and shall receive polite treatment. if i do not, i shall dispute the will, and make things unpleasant."

mrs. coppersley snapped her fingers. "that for all the harm you can do," she said coarsely. "the will stands good in law. i have made sure of that by consulting mr. timson, who drew it up. you can stay here for a week; at the end of that time you pack up and go."

"where to, aunt rosamund?"

"that's your look out, miss. but you don't stay here to spoil my honeymoon with my darling henry."

bella shrugged her shoulders. it really was not worth while losing her temper with a person whose methods were so crude. the more enraged mrs. coppersley became, the cooler bella felt. "do you know what you are, aunt rosamund?" she remarked coolly. "you are a bully, and a petty tyrant. while my father was alive you cringed to him because you were afraid. now that you think you have the whip hand of me, you vent your spite on one whom you think cannot retaliate. if i had the money, you would cringe to me; as you have it, you take every advantage of your position. but it won't do, aunt rosamund, for i am not the girl to submit to your insults. i shall stop here so long as it pleases me to stop, and if you make yourself disagreeable i shall know what to do."

mrs. coppersley's face grew slowly white, and her mouth opened and shut like a cod-fish. had bella wept, she would have gone on bullying triumphantly, but this cool, calm, scornful demeanour frightened her. at heart, like all bullies, she was a coward, and knew well that if it were known how she had ousted bella from her rightful inheritance, that she would be unpopular. as mrs. coppersley liked to be popular, and hoped, by means of her marriage with vand, her wrongfully obtained income, and her possession of bleacres, to be the great lady of the neighbourhood, she did not wish to drive bella to extremes. she therefore wiped her face, and hedged.

"you mustn't be angry with me bella," she said in quieter tones, "i wish you well, my girl."

"you wish me just as much as suits yourself," retorted bella coolly; "so far you have had everything your own way. now i mean to look into things for myself. you can go now, and entertain your darling henry. i shall not come to dinner. send up jane with some food to my bedroom."

"i shall do nothing of the sort," protested mrs. coppersley feebly, for her late rage had exhausted her, and she did not feel equal to fighting this pale, steady-eyed girl.

"i have told you what to do; so go and do it!" said bella, without raising her voice, and looked mrs. coppersley squarely in the eyes.

the mistress of bleacres tried to face down the gaze, but failed, and thoroughly cowed and beaten, in spite of her better position, she slowly retreated, muttering to herself a vengeance which she was unable to fulfil.

left alone, bella gave way. pride had kept her up during the quarrel with her aunt, but now, secure from observation, she broke down and wept. never before had she felt so lonely or so helpless. cyril was away, and she could not confide in him, for even if he had been present the terms on which they had parted forbade confidences. there was dora ankers, the school-mistress certainly—a good friend, but a bad adviser, as she knew very little of the world. and there was no one else who could help her in the dilemma in which she was placed. she had no home, no friends, and—on the face of it—no lover. it was a terrible position for a girl who hitherto had never met with serious trouble.

in spite of the drawn-down blinds and the cool atmosphere of the room, bella could scarcely breathe, so she moved to a side window, drew up the blind, and lifted the lower sash. outside, the brilliance of the sunshine was almost blinding, and through the quivering heads, across the still, stiff stalks of the corn, for there was no wind, she could see the gaudy red of the scarecrow coat. the mere glint of the violent hue made her head ache, and she returned to the middle of the room to walk up and down wearily thinking of what was best to be done in the circumstances in which she found herself. the photograph of cyril in its silver frame she replaced on the table. the much-loved face smiled encouragingly on her. at least, in her over-wrought state she thought so, and the thought aided her to beat down the many fears which assailed her.

while musingly walking the room, she became aware of a slight noise, and turned abruptly towards the window to see a black face grinning at her, with very white teeth. at once her thoughts reverted to the prophecy of granny tunks, and she felt a sudden thrill of dread as she saw that a black man actually had come to the manor-house. for one moment, the negro and the fair, young girl looked steadfastly at one another, she filled with nervous fear, and he, curiously observant. after an almost imperceptible pause—which seemed hours to bella—the man leaped through the window, before she could regain her voice to forbid his entrance.

"where is my master?" he asked, in guttural tones, but in fairly good english.

bella did not immediately reply, as her nerves fairly thrilled with the weird realisation of what the witch-wife had seen in the crystal, and even now she had not her voice under command. the negro was tall, bulky, and powerfully framed, coal-black from head to foot, with tightly curled hair and sharp, white teeth like those of a dog. bella had never seen so huge and strong a man, but in spite of his formidable appearance, his dark eyes had a kindly look in their depths, and his movements were extremely gentle. apparently his bark was worse than his bite, though his uncivilised looks were enough to awe the boldest. plainly but roughly dressed in an old tweed suit, with brown shoes and a bowler hat, he was not noticeable, save for his stature and enormous virility. the sensation he produced on the girl was overpowering, yet it was not entirely one of fear. in spite of his cannibal looks and unexpected entrance, and imperious demand, she felt perfectly safe.

"i am durgo!" explained the negro, annoyed by her silence, as was apparent from the frown which wrinkled his eye-brows. "where is my master?"

"i don't know where your master is," she replied, finding her tongue with some difficulty. "i do not know who your master is."

"my master," said the negro, "is my master. he came here two weeks and some days ago, more or less. i have come to find him. where is he?"

"how can i tell you when i do not even know his name?" asked bella sharply.

"his name is——" durgo was about to satisfy her curiosity, when he caught sight of the photograph in the silver frame, which still stood on the table. with a guttural cry of delight, he caught this up in his huge hands. "oh, my master! my master!" he gurgled, in an ecstasy of delight.

bella stepped back a pace with a scared look. "mr. lister your master?"

durgo nodded, and coolly slipped the photograph, frame and all, into the breast pocket of his tweed coat. "he is here! i shall find him," he remarked. "did my master see captain huxham?"

"yes," she replied mechanically.

"did my master and captain huxham quarrel?"

"yes," she replied again, and still mechanically.

"and did my master get what he wanted?" demanded the negro, rolling his eyes.

"i don't know what mr. lister wanted," said bella faintly; "you must explain yourself, and——"

"i explain nothing until i see my master," was durgo's reply. "perhaps captain huxham knows where my master is?"

"captain huxham is dead," she gasped.

durgo shut his strong white teeth with a click. "dead!" he repeated. "ah—aha—aha; captain huxham is dead. then my master——"

"no," cried bella, covering her eyes. "i don't believe that cyril killed my father—i don't believe it."

"cyril! father!" repeated durgo, looking at her curiously. "i must learn if——" he broke off suddenly and moved noiselessly to the window. bella stretched a helpless hand to stay him, but, lightly vaulting out of doors, he disappeared in a moment. she rushed to the window and saw him running down the path towards the boundary channel. there was no chance of catching him up, as she saw well, and therefore drew back.

"the crystal! the crystal!" she muttered to herself, shivering. "granny must know what it all means. i must see granny, and ask about the crystal."