tleman gazed at me as sternly as if I
were a bank-note for at least a thousand pounds; and then he said, "Step
this way, young lady. Major Hockin, step this way, Sir."

The young lady "stepped that way" in wonder as to what English English
is, and then we were shown into a sacred little room, where the daylight
had glass reflectors for it, if it ever came to use them. But as it
cared very little to do this, from angular disabilities, three bright
gas-lights were burning in soft covers, and fed the little room with a
rich, sweet glow. And here shone one of the partners of the bank, a very
pleasant-looking gentleman, and very nicely dressed.

"Major Hockin," he said, after looking at the card, "will you kindly sit
down, while I make one memorandum? I had the pleasure of knowing your
uncle well--at least I believe that the late Sir Rufus was your uncle."

"Not so," replied the Major, well pleased, however. "I fear that I am
too old to have had any uncle lately. Sir Rufus Hockin was my first
cousin."

"Oh, indeed! To be sure, I should have known it, but Sir Rufus being
much your senior, the mistake was only natural. Now what can I do to
serve you, or perhaps this young lady--Miss Hockin, I presume?"

"No," said his visitor, "not Miss Hockin. I ought to have introduced
her, but for having to make my own introduction. Mr. Shovelin, this lady
is Miss Erema Castlewood, the only surviving child of the late Captain
George Castlewood, properly speaking, Lord Castlewood."

Mr. Shovelin had been looking at me with as much curiosity as good
manners and his own particular courtesy allowed. And I fancied that he
felt that I could not be a Hockin.

"Oh, dear, dear me!" was all he said, though he wanted to say, "God
bless me!" or something more sudden and stronger. "Lord Castlewood's
daughter--poor George Castlewood! My dear young lady, is it possible?"

"Yes, I am my father's child," I said; "and I am proud to hear that I am
like him."

"That you well may be," he answered, putting on his spectacles. "You are
astonished at my freedom, perhaps; you will allow for it, or at least,
you will not be angry with me, when you know that your father was my
dearest friend at Harrow; and that when his great trouble fell upon
him--"

Here Mr. Shovelin stopped, as behooves a man who begins to outrun
himself. He could not tell me that it was himself who had found all the
money for my father's escape, which cost much cash as well as much good