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The walls of his new house were carried up nearly to their full height.By a curious though not infrequent reaction, Barnet's feelings about thatunnecessary structure had undergone a change; he took considerableinterest in its progress as a long-neglected thing, his wife before herdeparture having grown quite weary of it as a hobby. Moreover, it was anexcellent distraction for a man in the unhappy position of having to livein a provincial town with nothing to do. He was probably the first ofhis line who had ever passed a day without toil, and perhaps somethinglike an inherited instinct disqualifies such men for a life of pleasantinaction, such as lies in the power of those whose leisure is not apersonal accident, but a vast historical accretion which has become partof their natures.

Thus Barnet got into a way of spending many of his leisure hours on thesite of the new building, and he might have been seen on most days atthis time trying the temper of the mortar by punching the joints with hisstick, looking at the grain of a floor-board, and meditating where itgrew, or picturing under what circumstances the last fire would bekindled in the at present sootless chimneys. One day when thus occupiedhe saw three children pass by in the company of a fair young woman, whosesudden appearance caused him to flush perceptibly.

'Ah, she is there,' he thought. 'That's a blessed thing.'

Casting an interested glance over the rising building and the busyworkmen, Lucy Savile and the little Downes passed by; and after that timeit became a regular though almost unconscious custom of Barnet to standin the half-completed house and look from the ungarnished windows at thegoverness as she tripped towards the sea-shore with her young charges,which she was in the habit of doing on most fine afternoons. It was onone of these occasions, when he had been loitering on the first-floorlanding, near the hole left for the staircase, not yet erected, thatthere appeared above the edge of the floor a little hat, followed by alittle head.

Barnet withdrew through a doorway, and the child came to the top of theladder, stepping on to the floor and crying to her sisters and MissSavile to follow. Another head rose above the floor, and another, andthen Lucy herself came into view. The troop ran hither and thitherthrough the empty, shaving-strewn rooms, and Barnet came forward.

Lucy uttered a small exclamation: she was very sorry that she hadintruded; she had not the least idea that Mr. Barnet was there: thechildren had come up, and she had followed.

Barnet replied that he was only too glad to see them there. 'And now,let me show you the rooms,' he said.

She passively assented, and he took her round. There was not much toshow in such a bare skeleton of a house, but he made the most of it, andexplained the different ornamental fittings that were soon to be fixedhere and there. Lucy made but few remarks in reply, though she seemedpleased with her visit, and stole away down the ladder, followed by hercompanions.

After this the new residence became yet more of a hobby for Barnet.Downe's children did not forget their first visit, and when the windowswere glazed, and the handsome staircase spread its broad low steps intothe hall, they came again, prancing in unwearied succession through everyroom from ground-floor to attics, while Lucy stood waiting for them atthe door. Barnet, who rarely missed a day in coming to inspect progress,stepped out from the drawing-room.

'I could not keep them out,' she said, with an apologetic blush. 'Itried to do so very much: but they are rather wilful, and we are directedto walk this way for the sea air.'

'Do let them make the house their regular playground, and you yours,'said Barnet. 'There is no better place for children to romp and taketheir exercise in than an empty house, particularly in muddy or dampweather such as we shall get a good deal of now; and this place will notbe furnished for a long long time--perhaps never. I am not at alldecided about it.'

'O, but it must!' replied Lucy, looking round at the hall. 'The roomsare excellent, twice as high as ours; and the views from the windows areso lovely.'

'I daresay, I daresay,' he said absently.

'Will all the furniture be new?' she asked.

'All the furniture be new--that's a thing I have not thought of. In factI only come here and look on. My father's house would have been largeenough for me, but another person had a voice in the matter, and it wassettled that we should build. However, the place grows upon me; itsrecent associations are cheerful, and I am getting to like it fast.'

A certain uneasiness in Lucy's manner showed that the conversation wastaking too personal a turn for her. 'Still, as modern tastes develop,people require more room to gratify them in,' she said, withdrawing tocall the children; and serenely bidding him good afternoon she went onher way.

Barnet's life at this period was singularly lonely, and yet he washappier than he could have expected. His wife's estrangement andabsence, which promised to be permanent, left him free as a boy in hismovements, and the solitary walks that he took gave him ample opportunityfor chastened reflection on what might have been his lot if he had onlyshown wisdom enough to claim Lucy Savile when there was no bar betweentheir lives, and she was to be had for the asking. He would occasionallycall at the house of his friend Downe; but there was scarcely enough incommon between their two natures to make them more than friends of thatexcellent sort whose personal knowledge of each other's history andcharacter is always in excess of intimacy, whereby they are not so likelyto be severed by a clash of sentiment as in cases where intimacy springsup in excess of knowledge. Lucy was never visible at these times, beingeither engaged in the school-room, or in taking an airing out of doors;but, knowing that she was now comfortable, and had given up the, to him,depressing idea of going off to the other side of the globe, he was quitecontent.

The new house had so far progressed that the gardeners were beginning tograss down the front. During an afternoon which he was passing inmarking the curve for the carriage-drive, he beheld her coming in boldlytowards him from the road. Hitherto Barnet had only caught her on thepremises by stealth; and this advance seemed to show that at last herreserve had broken down.

A smile gained strength upon her face as she approached, and it was quiteradiant when she came up, and said, without a trace of embarrassment, 'Ifind I owe you a hundred thanks--and it comes to me quite as a surprise!It was through your kindness that I was engaged by Mr. Downe. Believeme, Mr. Barnet, I did not know it until yesterday, or I should havethanked you long and long ago!'

'I had offended you--just a trifle--at the time, I think?' said Barnet,smiling, 'and it was best that you should not know.'

'Yes, yes,' she returned hastily. 'Don't allude to that; it is past andover, and we will let it be. The house is finished almost, is it not?How beautiful it will look when the evergreens are grown! Do you callthe style Palladian, Mr. Barnet?'

'I--really don't quite know what it is. Yes, it must be Palladian,certainly. But I'll ask Jones, the architect; for, to tell the truth, Ihad not thought much about the style: I had nothing to do with choosingit, I am sorry to say.'

She would not let him harp on this gloomy refrain, and talked on brightmatters till she said, producing a small roll of paper which he hadnoticed in her hand all the while, 'Mr. Downe wished me to bring you thisrevised drawing of the late Mrs. Downe's tomb, which the architect hasjust sent him. He would like you to look it over.'

The children came up with their hoops, and she went off with them downthe harbour-road as usual. Barnet had been glad to get those words ofthanks; he had been thinking for many months that he would like her toknow of his share in finding her a home such as it was; and what he couldnot do for himself, Downe had now kindly done for him. He returned tohis desolate house with a lighter tread; though in reason he hardly knewwhy his tread should be light.

On examining the drawing, Barnet found that, instead of the vast altar-tomb and canopy Downe had determined on at their last meeting, it was tobe a more modest memorial even than had been suggested by the architect;a coped tomb of good solid construction, with no useless elaboration atall. Barnet was truly glad to see that Downe had come to reason of hisown accord; and he returned the drawing with a note of approval.

He followed up the house-work as before, and as he walked up and down therooms, occasionally gazing from the windows over the bulging green hillsand the quiet harbour that lay between them, he murmured words andfragments of words, which, if listened to, would have revealed all thesecrets of his existence. Whatever his reason in going there, Lucy didnot call again: the walk to the shore seemed to be abandoned: he musthave thought it as well for both that it should be so, for he did not goanywhere out of his accustomed ways to endeavour to discover her.