"
"Never was woman more unlikely to do that than you," answered Sir John.
"When a young girl talks like that, an old campaigner like myself begins
to wonder in which direction her heart has fluttered. No woman ever yet
regarded being a spinster with complacency, and few women jest about it
unless they are satisfied there is no danger. Is there a confession to
be made, Barbara?"
"None. Except for you and Martin Fairley, all men are--well, just men,
and of little interest to me. It is certain I cannot marry my uncle, and
I am not likely to fall in love with Martin, am I? By the way, where is
Martin? I have not seen him since I returned to the Abbey."
"I met him just a week ago, here on the terrace, with his fiddle under
his arm. He was starting to tramp to the other end of the county, he
told me, to play at a village wedding."
"Poor Martin!" said the girl.
"Mad Martin, rather," said Sir John; "and yet not so mad that he has not
had a certain effect upon us all, and upon you most of all. Ever since
you were a child he has been your willing slave, and he has taught you
many things out of that strange brain of his.
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