e had been
matched by his great strength. His stature was still large, his face
broad and massive, and an abundance of snow-white hair emphasized the
dignity of a countenance which age had made nobler. The generations of
eight hundred years were crystallized in this benignant old man, looking
with such eager interest into the faces of his strange kindred from a
far-off land.

In the evening they sat together in the old hall talking of the Rawdons.
"There is great family of us, living and dead," said the Squire, "and I
count them all my friends. Bare is the back that has no kin behind it.
That is not our case. Eight hundred years ago there was a Rawdon in
Rawdon, and one has never been wanting since. Saxon, Danish, Norman, and
Stuart kings have been and gone their way, and we remain; and I can tell
you every Rawdon born since the House of Hanover came to England. We
have had our share in all England's strife and glory, for if there was
ever a fight going on anywhere Rawdon was never far off. Yes, we can
string the centuries together in the battle flags we have won. See
there!" he cried, pointing to two standards interwoven above the central
chimney-piece; "one was taken from the Paynim in the first Crusade, and
the other my grandson took in Africa. It seems but yesterday, and Queen
Victoria gave him the Cross for it. Poor lad, he had it on when he died.
It went to the grave with him. I wouldn't have it touched. I fancy the
Rawdons would know it. No one dare say they don't. I think they meddle a
good deal more with this life than we count on."

The days that followed were days in The House Wonderful. It held the
treasure-trove of centuries; all its rooms were full of secrets.
Even the common sitting-room had an antique homeliness that provoked
questions as to the dates of its furniture and the whereabouts of its
wall cupboards and hidden recesses. Its china had the marks of forgotten
makers, its silver was puzzling with half-obliterated names and dates,
its sideboard of oak was black with age and full of table accessories,
the very names of which were forgotten. For this house had not been
built in the ordinary sense, it had grown through centuries; grown out
of desire and necessity, just as a tree grows, and was therefore fit
and beautiful. And it was no wonder that about every room floated
the perfume of ancient things and the peculiar family aura that had
saturated all the inanimate objects around them.

In a few da