the
period, was a maiden lady of fine presence, uncumbered as yet by
weight of years, and only dignified thereby. Stately, and straight, and
substantial of figure, firm but not coarse of feature, she had reached
her forty-fifth year without an ailment or a wrinkle. Her eyes were
steadfast, clear, and bright, well able to second her distinct calm
voice, and handsome still, though their deep blue had waned into a
quiet, impenetrable gray; while her broad clear forehead, straight nose,
and red lips might well be considered as comely as ever, at least by
those who loved her. Of these, however, there were not many; and she was
content to have it so.

Mrs. Carnaby, the younger sister, would not have been content to have
it so. Though not of the weak lot which is enfeoffed to popularity, she
liked to be regarded kindly, and would rather win a smile than exact a
courtesy. Continually it was said of her that she was no genuine Yordas,
though really she had all the pride and all the stubbornness of that
race, enlarged, perhaps, but little weakened, by severe afflictions.
This lady had lost a beloved husband, Colonel Carnaby, killed in battle;
and after that four children of the five she had been so proud of. And
the waters of affliction had not turned to bitterness in her soul.

Concerning the outward part--which matters more than the inward at first
hand--Mrs. Carnaby had no reason to complain of fortune. She had started
well as a very fine baby, and grown up well into a lovely maiden,
passing through wedlock into a sightly matron, gentle, fair, and showing
reason. For generations it had come to pass that those of the Yordas
race who deserved to be cut off for their doings out-of-doors were
followed by ladies of decorum, self-restraint, and regard for their
neighbor's landmark. And so it was now with these two ladies, the
handsome Philippa and the fair Eliza leading a peaceful and reputable
life, and carefully studying their rent-roll.

It was not, however, in the fitness of things that quiet should reign
at Scargate Hall for a quarter of a century; and one strong element of
disturbance grew already manifest. Under the will of Squire Philip the
heir-apparent was the one surviving child of Mrs. Carnaby.

If ever a mortal life was saved by dint of sleepless care, warm
coddling, and perpetual doctoring, it was the precious life of Master
Lancelot Yordas Carnaby. In him all the mischief of his race revived,
without the strong s