r than my
namesake up there could have been to his master's cause. Still, I feel
we are living in an age when opinions are no more secure from revolution
than dynasties."

"Speaking just now of the Chevalier Bayard reminds me that Jawkins
mentioned as one of the guests he had procured for the occasion--"

"Like so much plate or china," interrupted the quondam peer, bitterly.

"Sir John Dacre," continued Miss Windsor, without regard to his
petulance.

"John Dacre?" he cried, with interest.

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"Know him! He was one of my dearest college friends. He is a man of the
utmost dignity of soul and consummate breeding."

"Jawkins spoke of him with positive awe as a gentleman of the old
school. 'He is a chevalier _sans peur et sans reproche_, miss,' said he,
'and one of my choicest specimens. He is more precious than Sevres
china; but at present he declines pay.'"

"St. George and the dragon!" cried Lord Brompton, "what would Dacre say
could he hear the comparison? Jawkins's life would not be worth an
hour's purchase. We regarded John Dacre at Oxford as the ideal of a
chivalric nature."

"You interest me greatly," said she. "But what has he been doing since
you graduated?"

"We have not met, but I have heard of him as loyal and devoted to the
royal cause when the outlook was darkest. I shall find him the same
noble, ardent soul as ever, I have not a doubt. Like enough his zeal
will be the needful spur to my flagging spirit."

They had been wandering through the spacious mansion as they talked, but
so absorbed were they in the conversation that the changes in the
arrangement of the ancient heirlooms of the once illustrious house of
Ripon made but little impression upon Lord Brompton. Weary at last with
their wanderings the twain seated themselves upon a broad leather couch,
from which they could command a view of a magnificent stained-glass
mullioned window, which dated back to the days of George the First. The
half light of the apartment was perhaps a begetter of remembrances, for
they began to talk of the past, if indeed so short a period back as two
summers deserves to be so entitled. Through Lord Brompton's thoughts
floated an inquiry as to whether he was not in love with his companion,
for, if not, why this joyous sense of re-acquisition on his part? He had
never forgotten the pleasant, happy hours passed in La Belle France, and
here they were come again, and he was visiting side by side wi