n away by
a hero of romance."

He kicked about among the fragments of the ruined cabinet, but was
rewarded by no hollow ring. It was a most undutifully matter-of-fact
and prosaic piece of furniture in its interior, however much it may
have pleased the aesthetic sense outwardly. He gave it up after a time,
and finished dressing. "Nothing in that but firewood," he announced to
Jones, who had been watching his researches with some surprise. "Pile
it up in a corner and leave it there until I have made my peace with
Sir Iltyd."

He gave his necktie a final touch, then went down to the drawing-room,
where he found the candles lit and Sir Iltyd standing on the hearth-rug
beside his daughter. The old gentleman came forward at once and
greeted him with stately, old-fashioned courtesy, his stern, somewhat
sad features relaxing at once under Dartmouth's rare charm of manner.
He was a fine-looking man, tall and slim like his daughter, but very
fair. His head, well developed, but by no means massive, and scantily
covered with gray hair, was carried with the pride which was the bone
and fibre of his nature. Pride, in fact, albeit a gentle, chastened
sort of pride, was written all over him, from the haughty curve of his
eyebrow to the conscious wave of his small, delicate hand--pride, and
love for his daughter, for he followed her every movement with the
adoring eyes of a man for the one solace of a sad and lonely old age.

"It is so awfully good of you to let me come up here so soon,"
exclaimed Dartmouth. "But what do you suppose I have done to prove my
gratitude?"

"Made the castle your own, I hope."

"I have. I proceeded at once to make myself at home by smashing up
the furniture. One of your handsomest cabinets is now in ruins upon my
bedroom floor."

Sir Iltyd looked at him with a somewhat puzzled glance. He had lived
in seclusion for nearly thirty years, and was unaccustomed to the
facetiousness of the modern youth. "Has anything happened?" he
demanded anxiously.

Dartmouth smiled, but gave an account of the disaster in unadorned
English, and received forgiveness at once. Had he confessed to having
chopped his entire tower to pieces, Sir Iltyd would have listened
without a tightening of the lips, and with the air of a man about to
invite his guest to make a bonfire of the castle if so it pleased him.
As for Weir, her late education made her appreciate the humor of the
situation, and she smiled sympathetically at Harold