whole, sensibly; and she had not been greatly surprised at certain
little oddnesses, such as the tent in the grounds, an impossible
deer-hunt, and some unusual village charities and innovations on the
estate. Nor did she object to Brillon, though he had sometimes thrown
servants'-hall into disorder, and had caused the stablemen and the
footmen to fight. His ear-rings and hair were startling, but they were
not important. Gaston had been admired by the hunting-field--of which
they were glad, for it was a test of popularity. She saw that most
people liked him. Lord Dunfolly and Admiral Highburn were enthusiastic.
For her own part, she was proud and grateful. She could enjoy every
grain of comfort he gave them; and she was thankful to make up to
Robert's son what Robert himself had lost--poor boy--poor boy!

Her feelings were deep, strong, and sincere. Her grandson had come,
strong, individual, considerate, and had moved the tender courses of
her nature. At this moment Gaston had his first deep feeling of
responsibility.

"My dear," she said at last, "people in our position have important
duties. Here is a large estate. Am I not clear? You will never be quite
part of this life till you bring a wife here. That will give you a sense
of responsibility. You will wake up to many things then. Will you not
marry? There is Delia Gasgoyne. Your grandfather and I would be so glad.
She is worthy in every way, and she likes you. She is a good girl. She
has never frittered her heart away; and she would make you proud of
her."

She reached out an anxious hand, and touched his shoulder. His eyes were
playing with the pattern of the carpet; but he slowly raised them to
hers, and looked for a moment without speaking. Suddenly, in spite of
himself, he laughed--laughed outright, but not loudly.

Marriage? Yes, here was the touchstone. Marry a girl whose family had
been notable for hundreds of years? For the moment he did not remember
his own family. This was one of the times when he was only conscious
that he had savage blood, together with a strain of New World French,
and that his life had mostly been a range of adventure and common toil.
This new position was his right, but there were times when it seemed to
him that he was an impostor; others, when he felt himself master of it
all, when he even had a sense of superiority--why he could not tell;
but life in this old land of tradition and history had not its due
picturesqueness. With hi