Saying this, he led the way into the small apartment he alluded to, and, conducting me towards a handsome ebony or blackwood cabinet that occupied one end of the room, he threw open its little folding doors, and exhibited to me, not some rich or rare curiosity, as I had expected, but a
small, plain, very plain—or I should, perhaps, rather say very coarse—country-looking, blue-painted chest.
"Do you see that little chest, sir?" said Mr. Grafton, smilingly.
"I do," said I; "and it seems a very homely article to be so splendidly entombed, and so carefully kept."
"Yet," replied Mr. Grafton, "homely as it is, and small as is its intrinsic value, that is one of the heir-looms of the family, and one of the most fondly-cherished of them all."
"Indeed!" said I, in some surprise. "Then I am very sure it cannot be for its marketable worth. It wouldn't bring sixpence."
"I verily believe it would not," replied Mr. Grafton. "Yet the Earl of Wistonbury would not part with that little chest for a good round sum, I warrant ye."
"Pray, explain, my good sir."
"I will. That little, blue-painted chest contained all the worldly wealth—a few articles of female dress—of the lady whose portrait you were just now so much admiring, when she became Countess of Wistonbury."
"Why, then," said I, "that is proof that riches, at any rate, had nothing to do with her promotion to that high rank."