t flower-gardens, quaint old fish-ponds,
sparkling fountains, a wooded park, with sprightly deer--that was what
he saw, all bathed in the golden halo of the summer sunset. Massive and
grand, the old house reared its gray head, half overgrown with ivy and
climbing roses. Gaudy peacocks strutted on the terraces; a graceful
gazelle flitted out for an instant amongst the trees to look at them,
and then fled in affright; and the barking of half a dozen mastiffs
greeted their approach noisily.

"A fine place," thought Capt. Everard. "My pretty Ada might have done
worse. A grand old place for that puny child to inherit. The staunch old
warrior-blood of the Thetfords is sadly adulterated in his pale veins, I
fancy. Well, my little May, and how are you going to like all this?"

The child, a bright-faced little creature, with great, restless,
sparkling eyes, and rose-bloom cheeks, was looking in delight at a
distant terrace.

"See, papa! See all the pretty peacocks! Look, Ellen," to the nurse,
"three, four, five! Oh, how pretty!"

"Then little May will like to live here, where she can see pretty
peacocks every day?"

"And all the pretty flowers, and the water, and the little boy--where's
the little boy, papa?"

"In the house--you'll see him presently; but you must be very good,
little May, and not pull his hair, and scratch his face, and put your
fingers in his eyes, as you used to do with Willie Brandon. Little May
must learn to be good."

Little May put one rosy finger in her mouth, and set her head on one
side like a defiant canary. She was one of the prettiest little fairies
imaginable, with her pale flaxen curls, sparkling light-gray eyes, and
apple-blossom complexion; but she was evidently as much spoiled as small
Sir Rupert Thetford himself.

Lady Thetford sat in the long drawing-room, after her solitary dinner,
and little Sir Rupert played with his rocking-horse, and a pile of
picture-books in a remote corner. The young widow lay back in the
violet-velvet depths of a carved and gilded lounging-chair very simply
dressed in black and crimson, but looking very fair and stately withal.
She was watching her boy with a half smile on her face, when a footman
entered with Captain Everard's card. Lady Thetford looked up eagerly.

"Show Captain Everard up at once."

The footman bowed and disappeared. Five minutes later, and the tall
captain and his little daughter stood before her.

"At last!" said Lady Thetford, risi