l be used again," said Mrs. Hilliard, "perhaps
not until Sir Rupert grows up. There was a time," lowering her voice,
"when I thought he would never live to be as old and strong as he is
now. He was the punyist baby, Mrs. Weymore, you ever looked at--nobody
thought he would live. And that would have been a pity, you know, for
the Thetford estate would have gone to a distant branch of the family.
As it would, too, if Sir Rupert had been a girl."

She went up stairs to the inhabited part of the building, followed by
Mrs. Weymore, who seemed to grow more and more agitated with every word
the old housekeeper said.

"This is Sir Noel's room," said Mrs. Hilliard, in an awe-struck whisper,
as if the dead man still lay there; "no one ever enters here but me."

She unlocked it, as she spoke, and went in. Mrs. Weymore followed with a
face of frightened pallor that struck even the housekeeper.

"Good gracious me! Mrs. Weymore, what is the matter? You are as pale as
a ghost. Are you afraid to enter a room where a person has died?"

Mrs. Weymore's reply was almost inaudible; she stood on the threshold,
pallid, trembling, unaccountably moved. The housekeeper glanced at her
suspiciously.

"Very odd," she thought, "very! The new governess is either the most
nervous person I ever met, or else--no, she can't have known Sir Noel in
his lifetime. Of course not."

They left the chamber after a cursory glance around--Mrs. Weymore never
advancing beyond the threshold. She had not spoken, and that white
pallor made her face ghastly still.

"I'll show you the picture-gallery," said Mrs. Hilliard, "and then, I
believe, you will have seen all that is worth seeing at Thetford
Towers."

She led the way to a half-lighted room, wainscoted and antique, like all
the rest, where long rows of dead and gone Thetfords looked down from
the carved walls. There were knights in armor; countesses in ruffles,
and powder, and lace; bishops, mitre on head and crozier in hand; and
judges in gown and wig. There were ladies in pointed stomachers and
jewelled fans, with the waists of their dresses under their arms, but
all fair and handsome, and unmistakably alike. Last of all the long
array, there was Sir Noel, a fair-haired, handsome youth of twenty, with
a smile on his face, and a happy radiance in his blue eyes. And by his
side, dark, and haughty, and beautiful, was my lady in her bridal-robes.

"There is not a handsomer face amongst them all than my lad