The Mrs. Burton referred to by Sir Gilbert was housekeeper at the Chase, having held that position since the death of the second Lady Clare. She was a widow, middle-aged, thin, prim, and as upright as a dart, and was still able to pride herself on the slimness of her figure. Her manners pertained to what might be termed the severely genteel school. She was careful to impress upon everyone with whom she was brought into contact that she was "a lady by birth," but it was a statement which she evidently intended people to accept unfortified by any particulars of her parentage and early history, with regard to which, indeed, it was noticed that she was studiously reticent. Her peculiarities notwithstanding, she made an excellent housekeeper, and the baronet valued her accordingly.

It had not been often in the course of her uneventful existence that anyone had succeeded in more than faintly stirring the chilly shallows of Mrs. Burton\'s gentility, but this morning she had been more nearly startled out of her propriety than had happened to her since her advent at Withington Chase.

Sir Gilbert had sent for her immediately after breakfast, and without a word of preface, and with no more apparent concern than if he were giving his orders about dinner, had said:

"Mrs. Burton, I am expecting two people to luncheon to-day whom you have never yet seen, and probably never as much as heard of. They are my daughter-in-law and my grandson. After luncheon I should like them to be shown by you over the house. Mr. Lisle will accompany them in my place. So if you will kindly hold yourself in readiness and meanwhile give orders for the shutters of the unused rooms to be thrown open, and for an article or two of furniture here and there to be uncovered, I shall feel obliged."

Mrs. Burton had issued the requisite orders and had then shut herself up in her room to think over the astounding news which had just been told her, while endeavouring to regain her much-disturbed equanimity. She was one of those women who seem to have a special faculty for ferreting out every particular, or incident of consequence in the career of anyone in whom they are interested, and she had flattered herself that there was no fact of any moment in the life of Sir Gilbert with which she was not already acquainted. To-day, however, he had proved to her how egregiously she had been mistaken. A daughter-in-law and a grandson, and she, Felicia Burton, not to have known of their existence! She felt as if Sir Gilbert had put a grievous personal affront upon her.

But she was her usual prim, precise, close-lipped self when in her dress of black satin, a heavy gold chain round her neck, her faded hair crowned with a tasteful lace cap, and carrying a bunch of highly polished keys, she proceeded to show the little party over what might be termed the state apartments of the old mansion, not one of which had been entered by Sir Gilbert since his second wife\'s death. From room to room they went in leisurely fashion--the large drawing-room, the small ditto, "my lady\'s boudoir," the state dining-room, and so on, taking each in turn; and then upstairs, where a couple of the "best bedrooms" invited inspection--each and all being denuded of carpets and curtains, and of everything except its own special suite of furniture. Still, no great exercise of the imagination was needed to picture what those spacious and stately apartments must at one time have looked like, nor what they might very easily be made to look like again. Last of all they came to the picture-gallery, where the housekeeper, with an elaborate courtesy and a thin acid smile, took her leave.

"What a rummy old card!" was Luigi\'s outspoken comment almost before her back was turned.

"Lewis, how can you speak of her in that way?" exclaimed Giovanna. "To me she has something of the air of a broken-down duchess."

"As if you had ever seen a broken-down duchess, mother!" retorted the young man flippantly.

"Mrs. Burton is a lady by birth--at least, so she gives everyone to understand," remarked Everard drily. "And now, Mr. Clare, here we are among the painted effigies of your ancestors. I have already made the acquaintance of most of them, as far as it is possible for a man still in the flesh to do so. Would you like me to introduce you to any of them?"

"N--no, I think not. Fact is, I don\'t care a rap about the whole boiling of \'em."

"Idiot!" hissed Giovanna in his ear. Then turning to Everard with a smile, she said:

"I am afraid my son is falling into an absurd habit--sadly too common among the young men of to-day--of depreciating things which they really understand and care about, although they won\'t admit it. One day I must show you some of Lewis\'s drawings and water-colours. He has done nothing in oils as yet, I believe. I fancy they will rather surprise you."

"What rubbish you talk, mother!" exclaimed Luigi.

"By the way," continued Mrs. Clare without heeding him, "if among these portraits there is one of my son\'s namesake, the Colonel Lewis Clare who was killed in battle, I should certainly like to have it pointed out to me."

Luigi yawned openly.

"I am sorry not to be able to gratify your wish," responded Lisle. "No portrait of Colonel Clare is known to be in existence."

From the gallery they made their way by a side door into the grounds, where Shotover, the gardener, was awaiting them.

Among other things at the Chase which had suffered from neglect since Lady Clare\'s death, owing to Sir Gilbert\'s penurious style of living, were the gardens and glass-houses, for whereas Shotover had formerly had four able-bodied assistants under him, himself and a youth had now to attend to everything. As a consequence, many things had to be left undone, or only half done, much to the old fellow\'s disgust: To-day, however, a whisper had reached him that the young gentleman whom he was presently to show over the grounds was none other than his master\'s grandson and heir--although where he had so suddenly sprung from nobody seemed to know--and he determined to turn the opportunity to account in the way of pointing out the difference between past and present as far as his department was concerned, in the hope that his doing so might be the means before long of bringing about a more desirable state of affairs.

It was by no means displeasing to Luigi to be addressed by Shotover in such deferential terms, and to be appealed to almost as if he were already master of everything he saw around him. In return he put on a ver............