r dowry?"

"But she must be very young," said Lord Chetwynde, "if you were not
married until forty-five."

"She is only a child yet," said the General. "She is ten years old.
That need not signify, however. The engagement can be made just as
well. I free the estate from all its encumbrances; and as she will
eventually be a Chetwynde, it will be for her sake as well as your
son's. There is no obligation."

Lord Chetwynde wrung his friend's hand.

"I do not know what to say," said he. "It would add years to my life
to know that my son is not to lose the inheritance of his ancestors.
But of course I can make no definite arrangements until I have seen
him. He is the one chiefly interested; and besides," he added,
smilingly, "I can not expect you to take a father's estimate of an
only son. You must judge him for yourself, and see whether my account
has been too partial."

"Of course, of course. I must see him at once," broke in the General.
"Where is he?"

"In Ireland. I will telegraph to him tonight, and he will be here in
a couple of days."

"He could not come sooner, I suppose?" said the General, anxiously.

Lord Chetwynde laughed. "I hardly think so--from Ulster. But why such
haste? It positively alarms me, for I'm an idle man, and have had my
time on my hands for half a lifetime."

"The old story, Chetwynde," said the General, with a smile;
"petticoat government. I promised my little girl that I would be back
tomorrow. She will be sadly disappointed at a day's delay. I shall be
almost afraid to meet her. I fear she has been a little spoiled, poor
child; but you can scarcely wonder, under the circumstances. After
all, she is a good child though; she has the strongest possible
affection for me, and I can guide her as I please through her
affections."

After some further conversation Lord Chetwynde sent off a telegram to
his son to come home without delay.

CHAPTER II.

THE WEIRD WOMAN.

The morning-room at Chetwynde Castle was about the pleasantest one
there, and the air of poverty which prevailed elsewhere was here lost
in the general appearance of comfort. It was a large apartment,
commensurate with the size of the castle, and the deep bay-windows
commanded an extensive view.

On the morning following the conversation already mentioned General
Pomeroy arose early, and it was toward this room that he turned his
steps. Throughout the castle there was that air of neglect already
alluded to, s