lusion was over. It was like a
sudden shock of cold water down the back. I never discovered the origin
of his family; it was a matter of which he did not speak, perhaps
because he was vague about it himself; but if an earl of Norman blood
had married a handsome Cockney kitchenmaid of native ability, I can
quite imagine that Samuel Savage might have been a child of the union.
For the rest he was a good man and a faithful one, for whom I have a
high respect.

On this occasion he conducted us round the castle, or, rather, its more
public rooms, showing us many treasures and, I should think, at least
two hundred pictures by eminent and departed artists, which gave him an
opportunity of exhibiting a peculiar, if somewhat erratic, knowledge of
history. To tell the truth, I began to wish that it were a little less
full in detail, since on a December day those large apartments felt
uncommonly cold. Scroope and Miss Manners seemed to keep warm, perhaps
with the inward fires of mutual admiration, but as I had no one to
admire except Mr. Savage, a temperature of about 35 degrees produced its
natural effect upon me.

At length we took a short cut from the large to the little gallery
through a warmed and comfortable room, which I understood was Lord
Ragnall's study. Halting for a moment by one of the fires, I observed
a picture on the wall, over which a curtain was drawn, and asked Mr.
Savage what it might be.

"That, sir," he replied with a kind of haughty reserve, "is the portrait
of her future ladyship, which his lordship keeps for his private heye."

Miss Manners sniggered, and I said:

"Oh, thank you. What an ill-omened kind of thing to do!"

Then, observing through an open door the hall in which my hat had been
taken from me, I lingered and as the others vanished in the little
gallery, slipped into it, recovered my belongings, and passed out to
the garden, purposing to walk there till I was warm again and Scroope
reappeared. While I marched up and down a terrace, on which, I remember,
several very cold-looking peacocks were seated, like conscientious
birds that knew it was their duty to be ornamental, however low the
temperature, I heard some shots fired, apparently in a clump of ilex
oaks which grew about five hundred yards away, and reflected to myself
that they seemed to be those of a small rifle, not of a shotgun.

My curiosity being excited as to what was to be an almost professional
matter, I walked towards the g