“I was looking for the tankard.”
“What, the old Avonsyde tankard? But of course it is there. It was always kept in what we used to call the sacred cupboard.”
“Yes; but it is gone,” said Gabrielle. “It was there and it has vanished; and what is more wonderful, Rupert, another tankard has been put in its place—a tankard something like it in shape, but not made of silver and without the old motto.”
“Nonsense!” said Rupert almost sharply. “We will both go and look in the cupboard, Gabrielle. The real tankard may be pushed far back out of sight.”
“No; it is too large for that,” said Gabrielle. “But you shall come and see with your own eyes.”
She led the way, and the two began to explore the contents of the cupboard, the boy touching the sacred relics with almost more reverent fingers than the girl. The tankard, the real tankard, was certainly nowhere to be found.
“Father is put out about it,” said Gabrielle. “I know it by his eyes and by that firm way he compresses his lips together. He won’t get into a passion—you know he never does—but he is greatly put out. He says the tankard forms important evidence, and that its being lost is very disastrous to your prospects.”
“My prospects?” said Rupert. “Then father is not quite sure about my being the lawful heir?”
“Oh, Rupert, of course he is sure! But he must have evidence; he must prove your descent. Rupert, dear, are you not delighted? Are you not excited about all this?”
“No, Gabrielle. I shall never love Avonsyde as I love Belmont. It was here my mother lived and died.”