At that he lifted his head.
"My brother, madam, would count it not a debt, but an honour," he answered proudly.
"Yes," she smiled. "You are like him; when you speak like that you might almost be he."
"He is worth a thousand of me, Mrs. Fanshawe!" he replied vehemently, and broke off, staring down at the table.
"And his name?" she asked softly.
"John Anthony St. Ervine Delaney Carstares," he said, "Earl of Wyncham."
"So the Anthony was real! I am so glad, for he would always be Anthony to me."
There was a long silence, broken at last by the lady.
"I fear I have made you sad, Mr. Carstares. You will drink a dish of Bohea with me, before you go? And we will not speak of this again."
"You are very good, madam. Believe me, I am grateful to you for telling me all that you have. I beg you will allow me to wait on you again ere long?"