"When the sun rose they had disappeared. But a few days afterwards, a ferocious-looking bull, of a queer smoke-colour, and nine cows to match, were observed feeding in the Arnheim pastures. No one but Sir Hubert himself dared approach them, especially the bull, who was the terror of all the country round. Sir Hubert and he were seen together continually, and always on the best of terms. Ever since then there has been a herd of curious wild cattle at Bradenshope, and when the race becomes extinct, the Bradens, as a family, will be extinct also." "What an extraordinary story! And are the animals now in the park descended from the original herd ?"

"As certainly as we are descended from Sir Hubert. Now and then the herd has dwindled down to a single pair; once there was only one cow and a bull-calf, and then, it is said, the fortunes of the Bradens were at the lowest ebb."

66 Are any of them ever killed?"

Oh, yes! or we should be overrun with them. We have now three cows, and a heifer, I believe, besides the bull; and I rather think there is a calf. Papa will never allow more than four or five of them."

"I wonder he keeps them at all! He cannot believe that they have any influence on his fortunes! Still, I should like to see them. Are they smoke-coloured ?

Yes, all of them. They have never varied, except in shade, some being of a bluish black, and others a sort of dirty dun grey or lavender. They are considered great curiosities, for there are no others in the country-none, that is, exactly like them; but an American gentleman told papa that he had seen hundreds of the same breed in his own prairies."

"And what became of Sir Hubert ?"

"His fate belongs to the legend. He died exactly seven years after the arrival of the strange herd. It was seven years to the day-or rather to the night-and to the hour. There was another awful thunderstorm, and Sir Hubert, who was fond of wandering about after dark, was found in the morning stark dead among the cattle, his corpse so blackened and disfigured as to be scarcely recognisable. But for his wife, Dame Petronelle, he would

have been buried like a dog.

At her earnest entreaties he was laid in consecrated ground, though without bell, book, or candle, and at dead of night. I believe, however, masses were said for his soul, and the Lady Petronelle took the veil in a convent of the Ursuline Order, which then existed in the neighbourhood."

"And his son ?"

"Was as gentle and meek and pious as his father had been cruel, proud, and heathenish. He was called Sir Damian, and for a century after his death he was remembered as the Good Knight of Arnheim."

"I wonder he kept the cattle."

"I believe his father had exacted an oath from him that the breed should be preserved, and his wife, the haughty Lady Amabel, of Ellingham-Sir Hubert's choice rather than Sir Damian's-was clearly the ruling power at Arnheim. I am afraid our pious ancestor was not at all strong-minded, and allowed himself to be under petticoat government far more than was consistent with the dignity of the head of the house of Braden."

"The Bradens seem to have lived at Arnheim in those days."

"Yes, for this house, except a very small portion of it, did not exist. There were some farm-buildings, and a curious sort of tenement, half fortress and half dwelling, where the steward or bailiff resided. If the wild cattle brought with them deliverance from immediate peril, they seem also to have imported all kinds of misfortunes, for when Sir Damian-who, after all, if the stories about him were correct, had better have been a monk-when he died, a regular tide of trouble and reverse seemed to set in-a tide that for more than a century never turned, though many times the luckless Bradens of that period thought and hoped it must have reached the flood. Domestic sorrows and public disaster alike befell them, death overtook them at home and on the battle-field; they were unhappy in their marriages, their children were snatched away in early life, or lived but to be the curse and shame of their parents. Whatever cause they espoused became the losing one. They fell into disgrace at Court, and one of them, unjustly charged with treason, pined for years a

prisoner in the Tower, and was liberated only to perish miserably in banishment."

"Why did they not try killing the uncanny beasts ? Perhaps they never thought of it. At last there was born to the house of Braden a boy, who proved to be the restorer of his family's fortunes. He was pious, but not priest-ridden like Sir Damian; he was religious and brave and high-spirited, and he married a gentle-ladyMistress Hope Eden, of High Endlestone-a fair maiden, of good descent, and a great heiress to boot. By the way, Hilda, she came from your Aunt Dorothy's Grey House, then the manor-house of what is still called in the county records, 'High Endlestone.' And she seemed to bring with her renewed prosperity and peace. Her husband loved and honoured her, and her children grew up around her and called her blessed. Sir Paul-the first of that name, as far as I know-conceived the idea of building a new and more commodious mansion further to the south, and in a more sheltered aspect, and above all a residence that should be free from the evil memories of the Tower of Arnheim, which had been the scene of many a wicked and bloody action. So he chose the site of the farm buildings, and raised a goodly tenement, much of which still survives in the north wing; and partly to honour his wife, with whose money chiefly the plan was carried out, and partly because he trusted that in the new home a new and happier life would be commenced, he called the mansion Braden's Hope! And so the whole estate came, in course of time, to be known as Bradenshope. And that, Hilda, is the history and legend of our house."

"Is that all? I want to hear more."

"You shall hear more another day. Do you know what time it is ? "

66 Quite twelve o'clock, I am afraid."

"Later than that. Don't look, but go to bed, or I shall have the credit of your heavy eyes and pale cheeks tomorrow."

"Just one word! Shall you speak of what I told you?"

"I must reflect; but at present my idea is to tell papa, and no one else. I think he ought to know."

"And Walter-Mr. Braden, I mean?"

Papa will be the best judge. He can tell him if he chooses, but most assuredly I shall not breathe a word of the gipsy's prophecy to Walter."

"Mother! on earth it must still be so;
Thou rearest the lovely to see them go."

SIR PAUL was not at all inclined to think lightly of his daughter's communication. "I don't like it," he said, briefly; "there is something in it I cannot fathom, and I shall have the woman looked after. Say nothing to Walter. He spoke of going to the forest himself, but the change in the weather will most effectually put a stop to his explorings."

"You do not attach any importance to the prediction, papa, surely?"

66

'By no means, if I regard it as a prediction; but the gipsy's words seem to me more of an assertion—a positive assertion-than anything of a prophecy."

"But, dear papa, an assertion implies a fact; and the gipsy spoke as if there were some other heir who was to supersede Walter, and that we know is not the case."

66 There may be false assertions, my dear, as well as true ones, and people may receive erroneous impressions, which they may circulate in all good faith. I think I shall ask Hilda to repeat to me exactly what the woman said."

"Do, papa; such a story should always be listened to at first hand, if possible. She might add some trifle which I have forgotten, or communicate some idea of her own. Is she not a dear girl, papa ?"

"A very dear, good girl, and, I gentlewoman, every inch of her.

think, a clever one-a I have never been so

taken with a girl before; I could treat her like a daughter. Poor child! she does not know what a father's care and love are like. How long is she staying with us, Chrissie ?

"The limits of her visit were not exactly defined. She was asked to 'spend a few days at Bradenshope,' which may mean half a week, or a whole fortnight. Longer, I am afraid, we cannot keep her, for she was saying only this morning that after Sunday she must think of returning home, as she could not in all conscience leave Mrs. Dorothy alone any longer."

"Mrs. Dorothy has been alone, as she is at this moment, for the last thirty years. She has her cows, and her pigs, and her poultry, to say nothing of her ferns, and her kitchen-garden, and her maid Barker, who, I must say, sets my teeth on edge every time I meet her. No! we cannot part with Hilda Capel yet. More and more she reminds me of your dear Aunt Cecily-my favourite and never-forgotten sister."

"That there is a wonderful likeness I can see from the portrait. Papa, I wonder you never called any of us Cecily!"

"It was simply because I could not bear the idea of another Cecily than the one who had been my second self in childhood. Few sisters and brothers love as we did. My old eyes moisten now when I think of her-so fair, so bright, so early called away. Only a few hours' illness and she was gone, just like a half-blown rose cut down in June. I tell you what we will do, Chrissie; we will give a very quiet dinner-party-just Mr. and Mrs. Arnison, old Mr. Carew, and Mrs. Dorothy, and then we will coax the latter to extend her niece's furlough. Leave the lady of the Grey House to me. I know how to manage her!

I'll thee and thou her to her heart's content."

"I'll tell you what it is, papa. You flirt shamefully with Mrs. Dorothy! Mamma says you do."

"Ah, well! so long as mamma is not troubled I shall go on flirting. It amuses me to bandy compliments with the fine old lady—I am sure she likes it. Even at seventy, you see, Christina, your sex can appreciate a little delicate flattery."