Brand was amused rather than surprised at this little adventure; but when day after day passed, and no tidings came from Natalie, he grew alarmed.  Each morning he was certain there would be a letter; each morning the postman rung the bell below, and Waters would tumble down the stairs at breakneck speed, but not a word from Natalie or her mother.

At the little Buckinghamshire station at which he stopped he found a dog-cart waiting to convey him to Hill Beeches; and speedily he was driving away through the country he knew so well, now somewhat desolate in the faded tints of the waning of the year; and perhaps, as he drew near to the red and white house on the hill, he began to reproach himself that he had not made the place more his home.  Though the grounds and shrubberies were neat and trim enough, there was a neglected look about the house itself.  When he entered, his footsteps rung hollow on the uncarpeted floors.  Chintz covered the furniture; muslin smothered the chandeliers; everything seemed to be locked up and put away.  And this comely woman of sixty or so who came forward to meet him—­a smiling, gracious dame, with silvery-white hair, and peach-like cheeks, and the most winning little laugh—­was not her first word some hint to the young master that he had been a long time away, and how the neighbors were many a time asking her when a young mistress was coming to the Beeches, to keep the place as it used to be kept in the olden days?

“Ah well, sir, you know how the people do talk,” she said, with an apologetic smile.  “And there was Mrs. Diggles, sir, that is at the Checkers, sir, and she was speaking only the other day, as it might be, about the old oak cupboard, that you remember, sir, and she was saying, ’Well, I wouldn’t give that cupboard to Mahster Brand, though he offered me twenty pound for it years ago—­twenty pound, not a farthing less.  My vather he gave me that cupboard when I was married, and ten shillings was what he paid for it:  and then there was twenty-five shillings paid for putting that cupboard to rights.  And then the wet day that Mahster Brand was out shooting, and the Checkers that crowded that I had to ask him and the other gentleman to go into my own room, and what does he say but, “Mrs. Diggles, I will give you twenty pound for that cupboard of yourn, once you knock off the feet and the curly bit on the top.”  Law, how the gentle-folk do know about sech things:  that was exactly what my vather he paid the twenty-five shillings for.  But how could I give him my cupboard for twenty pound when I had promised it to my nephew?  When I’m taken, that cupboard my nephew shall have.’  Well, sir, the people do say that Mrs. Diggles and her nephew have had a quarrel; and this was what she was saying to me—­begging your pardon, sir—­only the other day, as it might be; says she, ’Mrs. Alleyne, this is what I will do:  when your young mahster brings home a wife to the Beeches, I will make his lady a wedding-present of that cupboard of mine—­that I will, if so be as she is not too proud to accept it from one in my ’umble station.  It will be a wedding-present, and the sooner the better,’ says she—­begging of your pardon, sir.”