ssion.

Certainly, she said, she was not only ready, but anxious to hear all
that Rupert could have to say for himself; and, smoothing down her
black satin apron with a shaking hand, the old lady prepared to listen
with as much judicial dignity as her flustered state allowed her to
assume. Rupert drew his chair opposite to hers and leant his elbow on
the table, and fixed his bright, hard eyes upon her.

"You remember, of course," he began after a moment's pause, "how at
the time of my poor father's death, Adrian was reported to have lost
his life in the Vendee war--though without authoritative
confirmation--at the same time as the fair and unhappy Countesse de
Savenaye, to whose fortune he had so chivalrously devoted himself."

Tanty bowed her head in solemn assent; but Molly, watching with the
most acute attention, felt her face blaze at the indefinable shade of
mockery she thought to catch upon the speaker's curling lip.

"It was," continued he, "the constant strain, the long months of
watching in vain for tidings, that told upon my father, rather than
the actual grief of loss. When he died, the responsibilities of the
headship of the house devolved naturally upon me, the only male
representative left, seemingly, to undertake them. The months went by;
to the most sanguine the belief in Adrian's death became inevitable.
Our hopes died slowly, but they died at last; we mourned for him,"
here Rupert cast down his eyes till the thick black lashes which were
one of his beauties swept his cheek; his tone was perfect in its
simple gravity. "At length, urged thereto by all the family, if I
remember rightly by yourself as well, dear aunt, I assumed the title
as well as the position which seemed mine by right. I was very young
at the time, but I do not think that either then, or during the ten
years that followed, I unworthily filled my brother's place."

There was a proud ring of sincerity in the last words, and the old
lady knew that they were true; that during the years of his absolute
power as well as of his present more restricted mastership, Rupert's
management of the estate was unimpeachable.

"Certainly not, my dear Rupert," she said in softer tones than she had
hitherto used to him, "no one would dream of suggesting such a
thing--pray go on."

"And so," pursued the nephew, with a short laugh, relapsing into that
light tone of banter which was his most natural mode of expression;
"when, one fine day, a hired coa