my dear," she answered. "God bless you! Good-night."

A few moments after, Gaston went to the library. He heard the voices of
Sir William and his uncle. He knocked and entered. Ian, with exaggerated
courtesy, rose. Gaston, with easy coolness, begged him to sit, lit a
cigar, and himself sat.

"My father has been feeding me with raw truths, Cadet," said his uncle;
"and I've been eating them unseasoned. We have not been, nor are likely
to be, a happy family, unless in your saturnian reign we learn to say,
pax vobiscum--do you know Latin? For I'm told the money-bags and the
stately pile are for you. You are to beget children before the Lord, and
sit in the seat of Justice: 'tis for me to confer honour on you all by
my genius!"

Gaston sat very still, and, when the speech was ended, said tentatively:

"Why rob yourself?"

"In honouring you all?"

"No, sir; in not yourself having 'a saturnian reign'."

"You are generous."

"No: I came here to ask for a home, for what was mine through my father.
I ask, and want, nothing more--not even to beget children before the
Lord!"

"How mellow the tongue! Well, Cadet, I am not going to quarrel. Here
we are with my father. See, I am willing to be friends. But you mustn't
expect that I will not chasten your proud spirit now and then. That you
need it, this morning bears witness."

Sir William glanced from one to the other curiously. He was cold and
calm, and looked worn. He had had a trying half-hour with his son, and
it had told on him.

Gaston at once said to his grandfather: "Of this morning, sir, I will
tell you. I--"

Ian interrupted him.

"No, no; that is between us. Let us not worry my father."

Sir William smiled ironically.

"Your solicitude is refreshing, Ian."

"Late fruit is the sweetest, sir."

Presently Sir William asked Gaston the result of the talk with Lady
Belward. Gaston frankly said that he was ready to do as they wished. Sir
William then said they had chosen this time because Ian was there, and
it was better to have all open and understood.

Ian laughed.

"Taming the barbarian! How seriously you all take it. I am the jester
for the King. In the days of the flood I'll bring the olive leaf. You
are all in the wash of sentiment: you'll come to the wicked uncle one
day for common-sense. But, never mind, Cadet; we are to be friends. Yes,
really. I do not fear for my heritage, and you'll need a helping hand
one of these days. Besides, you are an int