"But the title! He can't leave that to his second son," I said. "That must go to the one whom you say disgraced himself."
"It just that that's troubling the Colonel more than anything," replied the man. "He says it makes him wild to think that the title of Devereux of Devereux must be borne by a coward, and that his picture gallery and grand old house must go to him, too. At times I have heard him pray that his son may be dead, and have died childless; and yet, hard old man though he is, it's easy to see, from the way he talks about him sometimes, that he's as fond of him as ever, though he'd never confess it. But I'm afraid I'm tiring you, sir. Family histories are not very interesting to strangers."
To strangers! I could scarcely keep a sardonic smile from my lips as I echoed the words in my thoughts.
"Not at all," I answered, as lightly as I could; "but I was going to ask you, who is there living with Sir Francis now?"
"Well, there's no one living regularly with him, sir, except you count old Mrs. Platts, who really ain't much more than a housekeeper, though I believe she's a sort of distant connection. But, just now, there's Miss Maud Devereux, Mr. Rupert's daughter, and a friend of hers stopping here. Here we are at the cottage, Mr. Arbuthnot."
The carriage had pulled up, and a tall footman was standing by the side of the open door. I helped Marian out, and looked around. A little distance in front there was a low wire fencing, and about fifty yards further back, with a dark plantation of fir-trees immediately behind it, was a long, low, grey stone house, with gabled roof and old-fashioned windows. As we approached, the door was thrown open, and two smiling, countrified-looking servants, with neat caps and aprons, stood in a flood of light to welcome us.
We stepped into the hall, and Marian and I looked at one another in astonishment. This was all very different to what I had expected, and my first thought was that the few odds and ends of furniture which I had sent down would be of very little use in such a place as this. But our greatest surprise was to come, for when one of our pleasant-looking servants threw open the door of the dining-room, the room was already furnished, and in a fashion which, made us gaze around in astonishment. Instead of bare boards, which we had half expected, our feet sank into a thick Turkey carpet, and the furniture, solid and handsomely carved, matched the black oak panelling which skirted the walls. A bright fire was burning in a marble grate, and the table, covered with a snow-white cloth, and many things more substantial, was glittering with cut-glass, flowers, and heavy plate, on which were the Devereux arms.
I looked at Colonel Devereux's servant in an amazement which seemed to amuse him immensely.
"What has become of the furniture I sent down?" I asked.
"It is in the lumber room, sir," was the man's quiet reply. "Colonel Devereux's strict orders were that the place should be furnished for you from attic to cellar, and there's furniture enough up at the Court which no one ever sees, enough to furnish a score of such places as this. I hope I may say that you are satisfied, sir?"