“This is the child, holy father, of whom I have spoken to you once or twice; the child, Janet Hope.”

The father’s shrewd blue eyes took me in from head to foot at a glance.  He was a tall, thin and slightly cadaverous-looking man, with high aquiline features; and with an indefinable something about him that made me recognise him on the spot as a gentleman.  He wore a coarse brown robe that reached nearly to his feet, the cowl of which was drawn over his head.  When Sister Agnes had spoken he laid his hand gently on my head, and said something I could not understand.  Then placing his hand under my chin, he said, “Look me straight in the face, child.”

I lifted my eyes and looked him fairly in the face, till his blue eyes lighted up with a smile.  Then patting me on the cheek, he said, addressing Sister Agnes, “Nothing shifty there, at any rate.  It is a face full of candour, and of that innocent fearlessness which childhood should always have, but too often loses in an evil world.  I dare be bound now, little Janet, that thou art fond of sweetmeats?”

“Oh, yes, sir, if you please.”

“By some strange accident I find here in my soutane a tiny box of bonbons.  They might have been put there expressly for a little sweet tooth of a Janet.  Nothing could be more opportune.  Take them, my child, with Father Spiridion’s blessing; and sometimes remember his name in thy prayers.”

I did not see Father Spiridion again before I was sent away to school, but in after years our threads of life crossed and re-crossed each other strangely, in a way that neither he nor I even dreamed of at that first interview.

My life at Deepley Walls lengthened out from day to day, and in many ways I was exceedingly happy.  My chief happiness lay in the love of dear Sister Agnes, with whom I spent at least one or two hours every day.  Then I was very fond of Major Strickland, who, I felt sure, liked me in return—­liked me for myself, and liked me still more, perhaps, for the strange resemblance which he said I bore to some dear one whom he had lost many years before.  Of George Strickland, too, I was very fond, but with a shy and diffident sort of liking.  I held him as so superior to me in every way that I could only worship him from a distance.  The Major fetched me over to Rose Cottage several times.  Such events were for me holidays in the true sense of the word.  Another source of happiness arose from the fact that I saw very little of Lady Chillington.  The indifference with which she had at first regarded me seemed to have deepened into absolute dislike.  I was forbidden to enter her apartments, and I took care not to be seen by her when she was walking or riding out.  I was sorry for her dislike, and yet glad that she dispensed with my presence.  I was far happier in the housekeeper’s room, where I was treated like a little queen.  Dance and I soon learned to love each other very heartily.