giants
lifting white archangel trumpets above them in the centre.

"He can be trusted," she said. "I feel sure he can be trusted. He loves
them. He could not love them so much and not be able to take care of
them." And as she looked at him in frank appeal for sympathy, Lord
Dunholm felt that for the moment she looked like a tall, queenly child.

But pleased as he was, he presently gave up his place at her side to
Westholt. He must not be a selfish old fellow and monopolise her. He
hoped they would see each other often, he said charmingly. He thought
she would be sure to like Dunholm, which was really a thoroughly English
old place, marked by all the features she seemed so much attracted by.
There were some beautiful relics of the past there, and some rather
shocking ones--certain dungeons, for instance, and a gallows mount,
on which in good old times the family gallows had stood. This had
apparently been a working adjunct to the domestic arrangements of every
respectable family, and that irritating persons should dangle from
it had been a simple domestic necessity, if one were to believe old
stories.

"It was then that nobles were regarded with respect," he said, with his
fine smile. "In the days when a man appeared with clang of arms and
with javelins and spears before, and donjon keeps in the background, the
attitude of bent knees and awful reverence were the inevitable results.
When one could hang a servant on one's own private gallows, or chop off
his hand for irreverence or disobedience--obedience and reverence were a
rule. Now, a month's notice is the extremity of punishment, and the old
pomp of armed servitors suggests comic opera. But we can show you relics
of it at Dunholm."

He joined his wife and began at once to make himself so delightful to
Rosy that she ceased to be afraid of him, and ended by talking almost
gaily of her London visit.

Betty and Westholt walked together. The afternoon being lovely, they had
all sauntered into the park to look at certain views, and the sun
was shining between the trees. Betty thought the young man almost as
charming as his father, which was saying much. She had fallen wholly in
love with Lord Dunholm--with his handsome, elderly face, his voice, his
erect bearing, his fine smile, his attraction of manner, his courteous
ease and wit. He was one of the men who stood for the best of all they
had been born to represent. Her own father, she felt, stood for the best
of all s