ique, out-of-the-way things, with the crown and royal
arms of England upon them. I was not a little proud of these historical
treasures. A broad flight of steps led from the lawn to a broad porch.
As I passed under it I figured to myself the gorgeous splendor of other
days, when "knights and dames of high degree" had entered there.

An old butler, evidently an old family retainer, was the first person I
saw. He bowed low when I told him that I was Sir Edgar Trevelyan, "the
heir come to take possession."

I went through the magnificent house like a man in a dream. Could it be
possible that all this magnificence, all this grandeur, was mine? Mine,
these grand old rooms, with furniture and hangings that once served a
queen; mine, these superb pictures and statues, these gems of art, this
profusion of gold and silver plate? I laughed and cried in the same
breath. I make no pretensions to being a strong-minded hero, and I was
overcome.

Then, when I had some short time alone, the butler, whose name was
Hewson, came back and told me the Red Room was ready for my use. He had
selected it as being the most comfortable. Afterward I could, of course,
take what rooms I liked.

I found myself in a large, spacious chamber, called the Red Room, from
the prevailing tint of everything in it being crimson. The three large
windows were hung with crimson velvet; the carpet was crimson. I opened
one of the windows and looked over the glorious landscape, so full of
sunshine, flowers and beauty, that my heart thrilled within me, and my
soul did homage to the great Creator.

CHAPTER III.

Half an hour later I was summoned to the dining-room, where dinner was
laid for me. God knows that I had never coveted wealth or thought much
of luxury--I had been content with my lot.

What did I think when I saw that stately dining-room, with its brilliant
lights, the gold and silver, the recherche dishes, the odorous wines and
rare fruits? My first feeling was one of wonder that fortune should have
so overpowered me; my second was a fervent wish that such pleasant times
could fall to every one.

I had finished dinner and enjoyed, for the first time in my life, a
really prime cigar, when Hewson came into the library, evidently wishing
to see me.

"I thought I had better tell you. Sir Edgar, that Mademoiselle
d'Aubergne is in the drawing-room."

I looked at him in astonishment.

"Who is Mademoiselle d'Aubergne?" I asked.

"Do you not