to belong to a former generation. His manners were too stately for
his stature, and he was embarrassed by his elaborate efforts at
politeness as his movements might have been by too ample garments.

He and his sister were representatives of one of the "old families"
of the State, and, like their mansion, reminded one of the past.
Indeed, they seemed to cherish, as a matter of pride and choice,
their savor of antiquity, instinctively recognizing that their
claims upon society were inherited rather than earned.

Old families do not always appear to accumulate the elements of
greatness to such a degree that there is an increasing and almost
irresistible impetus of force and genius. Successive generations
are not necessarily born to a richer dower of mind and morals.
Too often it would seem that the great qualities that in the first
place launched a family on a brilliant career expend themselves,
until the latest scion, like a spent arrow, drops into insignificance.

Mrs. Marchmont was regarded by society as an elegant woman, and
she was, in all externals. The controlling principle of her life
was precedent. What had been customary, and still obtained among
the "good old families," had a flavor of divine right in it.

Alas for the Marchmont family, for the young lady of the house
seemed inclined to maintain and perpetuate nothing save her own
will, and had no special development in any respect, save a passion
for her own way. Still she was one of those girls whom society calls
a "pretty little thing," and was predestined to marry some large,
good-natured man who would imagine that she would make a nice
little pet, a household fairy, but who might learn to his dismay