ago, there was one of
those unfortunate cases. A poor servant-girl--a very pretty and nice
girl, too, she was--was turned out of her mistress' house in the cold of
a winter's night; her boxes and wages were put in the street, and she
was told to go to the work-house. She almost went mad with despair and
shame. Frances would go to the rescue, and I honestly believe that
through my wife's charity and goodness that unhappy girl will be
restored to her place in the world, or that, at least, she will not go,
as she would otherwise have done, to the bad. I thought that a most
beautiful trait in her character."

"So it was," I replied, liking my dear old friend all the better for his
great love for his wife.

"She is always the same," he continued, "full of charity and tenderness
for the poor. You could not think how much they love her. All around
Vale Royal she is worshiped. I am a very fortunate man, John."

"You are indeed," I replied.

He went on:

"I always had my ideal. I have known many. None ever reached my standard
but Frances, and she is my ideal come to life--the reality found, fair,
sweet, and true, a blonde, queenly woman. I should think that very few
men meet and marry their ideal as I have met and married mine. Ah, there
is the avenue that leads to the old manor-house! Who could have thought
that I should ever be master of a manor-house, John? Neither that nor
the handsome income belonging to it would be of any use without Frances.
It is Frances who makes the world to me."

The avenue was a superb one. It consisted of tall chestnut trees
standing four deep. I have seen nothing finer. Just now the flowers were
all in bloom, the bees and butterflies had been all drawn there by their
odor; the birds were flitting in and out, making grand discoveries in
the great boughs; the ground was a carpet of flowers, white daisies and
golden buttercups mixed with wild hyacinths and graceful blue-bells. We
drove for some few minutes over this carpet, and then the old gray
manor-house stood before us, the prettiest picture ever seen on a
summer's day. The whole front of the house was covered with flowers, and
the ivy grew green and thick; it climbed to the very top of the towers.

"Famous ivy," said Lance. "People come to Dutton to look at the ivy."

"I do not wonder at it," I said.

I was somewhat surprised at the style o the house. I had not expected
anything so grand, so beautiful.

"We shall have time for a ciga