ort a wife," answered Harry.

"Have you calculated, may I ask, to what this princely fortune you speak
of amounts?"

"Three or four hundred a year, sir, not including my pay; and the young
lady herself is not penniless, for our cousins have resolved to leave
her their property."

"Our cousins leave a stranger their property!" exclaimed Sir Ralph. "It
should be Julia's or yours; it came through the Castletons, and should
return to them."

"So it will, sir," said Harry, having, as he hoped, caught his father in
a trap, "when May marries me."

"I see how it is," observed the baronet, not noticing Harry's last
remark. "Our sanctimonious cousins wish to get a husband for this girl
they have picked up, and as they are not likely to meet any other young
gentleman in the secluded way they live, they have entrapped you."

"I assure you, sir, you do them great wrong," observed Harry, warmly.
"I went to the house of my own accord, and I am sure it did not enter
their heads that I should fall in love with their friend. I wish, sir,
that you could see them and the lady you condemn. Possessing as you do
so exquisite a taste in female beauty and refinement, I am sure you will
admire her."

"I may possibly call at the Miss Pembertons, because I wish to express
my opinion of their conduct in the matter," said the baronet, wishing
not to appear influenced by his son's remarks. "I may then see this
girl who has caught you. I tell you that if she were as beautiful as
Venus, nothing would alter my determination. May I ask, do you know who
she is? Your mother has only spoken to me of her as the Miss Pembertons
protege."

Harry, feeling perfectly sure that should he answer the question his
father would be still more adverse to his marriage, and would possibly
express himself forcibly on the subject, replied--

"I wish, sir, that you would see her before I answer the last question.
I wish you to judge her on her own merits, independent of all other
considerations."

Harry had maintained the conversation with a good deal of spirit, though
he felt somewhat exhausted, when his father, turning to the table, began
to write without apparently noticing him. While thus seated, his eye
fell on the picture of his long lost uncle which hung next to Sir
Reginald's. Though he had been often in the room, he had never
particularly noticed it, for it was in a bad light, and the features
were not distinct. A gleam of sunlight now coming