er come yet; not even to the
funeral.'

'Singular!'

'An inexplicable thing! There has never been a shadow of disagreement
between them.'

'Mr. Eldon is abroad, I believe?' said the clergyman musingly.

'Abroad? Oh dear, no! At least, I--. Is there news of his being abroad?'

Mr. Wyvern merely shook his head.

'As far as we know,' Mrs. Waltham continued, rather disturbed by the
suggestion, 'he is at Oxford.'

'A student?'

'Yes. He is quite a youth--only two-and-twenty.'

There was a knock at the door, and a maid-servant entered to ask if
she should lay the table for tea. Mrs. Waltham assented; then, to her
visitor--

'You will do us the pleasure of drinking a cup of tea, Mr. Wyvern? we
make a meal of it, in the country way. My boy and girl are sure to be in
directly.'

'I should like to make their acquaintance,' was the grave response.

'Alfred, my son,' the lady proceeded, 'is with us for his Easter
holiday. Belwick is so short a distance away, and yet too far to allow
of his living here, unfortunately.'

'His age?'

'Just one-and-twenty.'

'The same age as my own boy.'

'Oh, you have a son?'

'A youngster, studying music in Germany. I have just been spending a
fortnight with him.'

'How delightful! If only poor Alfred could have pursued some more--more
liberal occupation! Unhappily, we had small choice. Friends were good
enough to offer him exceptional advantages not long after his father's
death, and I was only too glad to accept the opening. I believe he is
a clever boy; only such a dreadful Radical.' She laughed, with a
deprecatory motion of the hands. 'Poor Adela and he are at daggers
drawn; no doubt it is some terrible argument that detains them now on
the road. I can't think how he got his views; certainly his father never
inculcated them.'

'The air, Mrs. Waltham, the air,' murmured the clergyman.

The lady was not quite sure that she understood the remark, but the
necessity of reply was obviated by the entrance of the young man in
question. Alfred was somewhat undergrown, but of solid build. He walked
in a sturdy and rather aggressive way, and his plump face seemed to
indicate an intelligence, bright, indeed, but of the less refined order.
His head was held stiffly, and his whole bearing betrayed a desire to
make the most of his defective stature. His shake of the hand was an
abrupt downward jerk, like a pull at a bell-rope. In the smile with
which he met Mr. Wyvern a supercilious