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realize that she may marry, in which case—”
    â€œOf course Celia will marry,” interrupted Miss Dunne. “All the Dunne women marry—except me, of course—but you needn’t think I couldn’t have married if I’d wanted to.”
    â€œI never thought that.”
    â€œThere were several young gentlemen,” said Miss Dunne with a reminiscent smile, “but the only one I wanted was Courtney Dale and he preferred Mary.”
    â€œShe must have been very attractive.”
    â€œThat’s rather nice of you, Humphrey,” she said gravely. “The fact was we never met until he and Mary were engaged, so of course…but perhaps it was just as well in the long run, for I might not have been happy so far away from Dunnian.”
    There was silence. Miss Dunne was thinking of Courtney Dale. There had never been a word of understanding between them—scarcely a glance—but they had both known that a wrong turning had been taken and that something beautiful had been missed. He and Mary had been married and had gone from Dunnian, never to return, and Celia had remained single.
    After a little while, Humphrey returned to the subject that was occupying his mind. He said, “Aunt Celia, have you realized that if there is a Celia and she marries, there won’t be Dunnes at Dunnian anymore?”
    â€œCelia’s husband will take the name,” Miss Dunne said firmly. “I know all those arguments, Humphrey, and I know the answers. It has all been considered most carefully and every contingency allowed for. Mr. Wanlock will explain it to you tomorrow. He doesn’t approve, of course; in fact, he argued with me for hours. First of all, he didn’t want me to pass over Maurice, and then when he found I was adamant on that point, he wanted me to entail the property so that it would go to your son.”
    â€œThat is the usual thing—”
    â€œOf course it’s the usual thing, but I prefer my own way. Celia’s children will be Dunnes every bit as much as Mark’s, and anyway what on earth induced you to call the child Mark? He should have been Henry.”
    â€œAlice’s father was Mark,” Humphrey said miserably.
    â€œHe should have been Henry,” repeated Miss Dunne.
    Humphrey said no more, for he saw it was useless, and silence ensued.
    â€œYou had better put in electric light,” Miss Dunne said suddenly. “I believe it is quite satisfactory if you get a good man to do it, and it will be safer with the children running about. You’ll need another bathroom, of course. I should put it on the nursery floor if I were you. The house is perfectly sound, but it needs redecorating, I haven’t bothered about paper and paint.”
    â€œI wish you wouldn’t talk like that, Aunt Celia.”
    â€œWhy not?” she asked. “I may as well face up to it. I confess that sometimes I feel a little frightened—but then I look at the hills. There they stand, always the same. It gives one courage to see them.” She was silent for a moment and then she added dreamily, “The only thing that can beat Death is Life—new life.”
    Humphrey did not speak.
    â€œI shall be sorry to leave Dunnian,” Miss Dunne added with a sigh.
    â€œBut you mean to come back,” said Humphrey. He was surprised when he heard himself say the words, but having said them he knew they were true and that this was the solution of the mystery.
    â€œI wonder,” said Miss Dunne. “I wonder if I shall. We don’t know much, do we? I wonder what sort of a place I’m going to. I’ve lived here so long—I haven’t been away from Dunnian for years—so it’s rather an adventure.”

Chapter Five
August 1905
    Mr. and Mrs. Maurice Dunne drove up to Dunnian House in their new motorcar. They had had two punctures on their way from Edinburgh (which had annoyed them a good deal), and they both