Percival Elster turned. A lad of seventeen had come bounding in at
the window. It was Dr. Ashton's eldest living son, Arthur. Anne was
twenty-one. A son, who would have been nineteen now, had died; and
there was another, John, two years younger than Arthur.

"How are you, Arthur, boy?" cried Val. "Edward hasn't come. Who told you
he had?"

"Mother Gum. I have just met her."

"She told you wrong. He will be down to-morrow. Is that Dr. Ashton?"

Attracted perhaps by the voices, Dr. and Mrs. Ashton, who were then out
on the lawn, came round to the window. Percival Elster grasped a hand of
each, and after a minute or two's studied coldness, the doctor thawed. It
was next to impossible to resist the genial manner, the winning
attractions of the young man to his face. But Dr. Ashton could not
approve of his line of conduct; and had sore doubts whether he had done
right in allowing him to become the betrothed of his dearly-loved
daughter.




CHAPTER IV.

THE COUNTESS-DOWAGER.


The guests had arrived, and Hartledon was alive with bustle and lights.