"Come, Ray; come, Darius," said my mother, as she wiped her eyes;
"I will show you the new house."

A man took the horses, and we all followed her into the splendid
hall, while I was filled with wonder and a mighty longing for the
old home.




XX

It was a fine house--that in which I spent many happy years back in
my young manhood. Not, indeed, so elegant and so large as this
where I am now writing, but comfortable. To me, then, it had an
atmosphere of romance and some look of grandeur. Well, in those
days I had neither a sated eye, nor gout, nor judgment of good
wine. It was I who gave it the name of Fairacres that day when,
coming out of the war, we felt its peace and comfort for the first
time, and, dumfounded with surprise, heard my mother tell the story
of it.

"My grandfather," said she, "was the Chevalier Ramon Ducet de
Trouville, a brave and gallant man who, for no good reason,
disinherited my father. The property went to my uncle, the only
other child of the chevalier, and he, as I have told you, wrote
many kind letters to me, and sent each year a small gift of money.
Well, he died before the war,--it was in March,--and, having no
children, left half his fortune to me. You, Ramon, will remember