"It
stands upon the site of one of the oldest and largest monasteries in
the south of England. Indeed, some parts of the house, notably the
chapel and the west tower, which is visible from here, I think, are
remains of the original building."
She was palpably trying to interest me; and conscious that my somewhat
frigid attitude was churlish, if she was really what she professed to
be--namely, a friend of Lady Coverly's--I endeavored in turn to
display an intelligent interest in the history of the old monastic
house.
I do not regret that I did so. I think that I have never heard the dry
bones of history clothed so fascinatingly. The knowledge displayed by
my unknown visitor of the history of that old monkish corner of
England was truly amazing. The Coverlys, it appeared, had played their
part in that history right back to the misty times of Saxon England.
The scenes conjured up by my first sight of the curiously wild country
which lay between the village and the distant parkland were presented
now with all the color and truth of real life. This woman seemingly
was acquainted with almost every act of importance of every Coverly
since the days of Canute and with the doings of all the abbots who had
ever ruled over Croix-de-Lis.
Finally, while I listened in ever growing wonder, fascinated by the
extent of this strange woman's knowledge and in part, too, by the
husky music of her voice, she seemed to become conscious of the
passage of time and, rising suddenly, she laughed; and her laughter
again awakened a memory.
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