“No; quite different. Such magnificence would not do for a poor country gentleman like myself. It is an old Tudor house, built in the reign of Henry VIII.”
“I know Henry VIII.,” said Helena vivaciously.
“Shakespeare, I suppose? What a charming way of learning history! Yes, Roylands Grange is a Henry VIII. house of red brick, and is covered with ivy. Green lawns with flower-beds are before the terrace, and the whole is encircled by the park.”
“How lovely it must be, Maurice! And is it all your own?”
“Yes; at least, it is unless my uncle Rudolph turns up.”
“Your Uncle Rudolph!”
“Oh, that is our one family romance. Rudolph Roylands was my father’s elder brother, and they were both in love with my mother. She favored my father, Austin, and the brothers had a quarrel which ended in blows. Austin got the worst of it, and Rudolph, thinking he had killed him, fled. Since then, nothing has been heard of him, and that is quite forty years ago.”
“But how does this affect your owning the Grange?”
“Because I am only the second branch. Uncle Rudolph was the heir to the Grange, not my father; so if he turns up alive, or if he has left heirs, I will have to give up all my property to them.”
“Would you mind very much?” asked Helena in a pitying manner.