with a seat in the Council."

I thought of Governor Sharpe's biting words to Grafton. The Governor
knew my uncle well, and I was sure he had never sat at his Council.

"A son is a son, Richard," continued Mr. Carvel. "You will one day
find that out. Your uncle has atoned. He hath been faithful during my
illness, despite my cold treatment. And he hath convinced me that your
welfare is at his heart. I believe he is fond of you, my lad."

No greater sign of breaking health did I need than this, that Mr. Carvel
should become blind to Grafton's hypocrisy; forget his attempts to
prevent my father's marriage, and to throw doubt upon my mother's birth.
The agony it gave me, coming as it did on top of the cruel deception,
I shall not dwell upon. And the thought bursting within me remained
unspoken.

I saw less of Dorothy then than I had in any summer of my life before.
In spite of Mrs. Manners, the chrysalis had burst into the butterfly,
and Wilmot House had never been so gay. It must be remembered that
there were times when young ladies made their entrance into the world at
sixteen, and for a beauty to be unmarried at twenty-two was rare indeed.
When I went to Wilmot House to dine, the table would be always full, and
Mr. Marmaduke simpering at the head of it, his air of importance doubled
by his reflected glory.

"We see nothing of you, my lad," he would say; "you must not let these
young gallants get ahead of you. How does your grandfather? I must pay
my compliments to-morrow."

Of gallants there were enough, to be sure. Dr. Courtenay, of course,
with a nosegay on his coat, striving to catch the beauty's eye. And Mr.
Worthington and Mr. Dulany, and Mr. Fitzhugh and Mr. Paca, and I
know not how many other young bachelors of birth and means. And Will
Fotheringay, who spent some of his time with me at the Hall. Silver and
China, with the Manners coat-of-arms, were laid out that had not seen
the light for many along day. And there were picnics, and sailing
parties, and dances galore, some of which I attended, but heard of more.
It seemed to me that my lady was tiring of the doctor's compliments, and
had transferred her fickle favour to young Mr. Fitzhugh, who was much
more worthy, by the way. As for me, I had troubles enough then, and had
become used in some sort to being shelved.

One night in July,--'twas the very day Mr. Carvel had spoken to me of
Grafton,--I had ridden over to Wilmot House to supper. I had little
heart