as she turned from side to
side. She did not want to talk; conversation would have been but an
interruption at the moment; she wanted but to look and to think.

The walls were covered with portraits of ancestors--Captain Farrell who
sailed the seas with Nelson's fleet; General Farrell who fought under
Wellington; Lord Edward Farrell, the famous judge; fresh-faced country
squires in quaint, old-world costumes. The dim faces looked down from
their frames with a curious, haunting likeness running through all; and
at the head of the table sat the last of his race, the grim old man to
whom death was coming. Ah, it must be hard to look back on so good a
race, to realise that no son remained alive to carry on the name, and
that one of the strangers now seated round his own table would shortly
reign in his place!

Ruth thrilled with pity; her beautiful eyes grew soft and dreamy; and
the clergyman, looking at her across the table, could scarcely restrain
an exclamation of surprise. He had understood that Mr Farrell
possessed only distant relatives, but this girl was a true chip of the
old block; allowing for difference of age and sex, here was the same
face which was repeated again and again upon the walls--the aquiline
features, the melancholy lips, the straight heavy brows.

Mr Thornton knew that the time had come when his host was to choose his
successor at the Court, and, looking from one to the other of the four
young people, he personally felt no doubt as to the one on whom the
choice would fall. Ruth Farrell bore her credentials in her face, and
with a thrill, half painful, half amused, he realised how great a factor
in his own life this slim young girl might be. As lady of the Court and
his own patron, she would have it in her power to ensure his comfort or
the reverse. Ah, well, well, it was too early to speculate! The child
had a sweet, good face; no doubt all would be well.

While Ruth and the vicar were absorbed in their own thoughts, Mrs Wolff
was also silent, overcome with the weight of responsibility which
pressed heavily on her unaccustomed shoulders. Little Mrs Thornton
prattled of cheery nothings at the other end of the table, and Jack
Melland, turning towards his companion, remarked formally--

"I--ah--I think we have met earlier in the day!"

"In the train, you mean; yes! We saw you get out at the station, but
you disappeared so quickly that I could not think what had happened to
you."

"Not