been killed in the Indian Mutiny at Meerut in 1857, at which he took
up a sword, though a civilian, to fight for his life; Roger (to whom
I shall refer presently); and John--the latter, like Geoffrey, dying
unmarried. Out of Sir Geoffrey's family of five, therefore, only
three have to be considered: My grandfather, who had three children,
two of whom, a son and a daughter, died young, leaving only my
father, Roger and Patience. Patience, who was born in 1858, married
an Irishman of the name of Sellenger--which was the usual way of
pronouncing the name of St. Leger, or, as they spelled it, Sent
Leger--restored by later generations to the still older form. He was
a reckless, dare-devil sort of fellow, then a Captain in the Lancers,
a man not without the quality of bravery--he won the Victoria Cross
at the Battle of Amoaful in the Ashantee Campaign. But I fear he
lacked the seriousness and steadfast strenuous purpose which my
father always says marks the character of our own family. He ran
through nearly all of his patrimony--never a very large one; and had
it not been for my grand-aunt's little fortune, his days, had he
lived, must have ended in comparative poverty. Comparative, not
actual; for the Meltons, who are persons of considerable pride, would
not have tolerated a poverty-stricken branch of the family. We don't
think much of that lot--any of us.

Fortunately, my great-aunt Patience had only one child, and the
premature decease of Captain St. Leger (as I prefer to call the name)
did not allow of the possibility of her having more. She did not
marry again, though my grandmother tried several times to arrange an
alliance for her. She was, I am told, always a stiff, uppish person,
who would not yield herself to the wisdom of her superiors. Her own
child was a son, who seemed to take his character rather from his
father's family than from my own. He was a wastrel and a rolling