"But, Uncle Derrick, I can't bear to think of the Château in his hands, and all its possessions. It is iniquitous! Oh if you knew it as I do, you would feel differently! I have learnt to love it. It is so mellow, so ancient; it seems to smile serenely in its decay. There's such a sense of peace and rest in it. There's a favourite seat of mine in the woods above it, where I sit and look down upon it, and think of all that has happened in it in the past. Cousin Guy told me one day that in their family records there was no deed of cruelty or of violence that had ever been committed inside its walls, and the atmosphere feels full of peace. I can't bear to think of it falling into the Bouveries' hands." "My dear child," said her uncle, rather surprised at this outburst, "I had no idea that it had got such possession of you. We can do nothing to help your aunt, I fear. Tom and I were continually sending her money after her husband's death, but at last we stopped, for we judged it was no real help to her." "I have money now," said Adrienne thoughtfully; "I wonder—" "No, it's not to be thought of. I am getting an old man, and you will have yourself to provide for; you must not spend your money on bolstering up a ruin." "Oh, but it isn't a ruin, that's what makes it so sad. It only wants decorating and painting. The walls and roof and all the rooms are sound and good. But I couldn't buy it. Mr. Bouverie wants it for himself and he would ask a fabulous price for it. What I am really concerned about is Van Dyck's picture. Cousin Guy told Aunt Cecily he would not let that go out of the family." "Then let him come back and get it. Where is he?" "I don't know. He gave me his banker's address in New York, in case of anything urgent. I will write to them to-day. I think I will enclose him Bertha's letter. I am so thankful she is there. I should be miserable if Aunt Cecily were alone." "Do you want to go back to her?" her uncle asked her in his quiet voice. Adrienne laid her hand upon his arm. "Uncle Derrick, do you think I would or could leave you? I did wonder whether you would like to accept Aunt Cecily's invitation and go there for a visit. I should love you to see it all." "I'm afraid I shouldn't care to do that," said the Admiral slowly. "Tom paid her a visit once, and it was a dead failure. No, my dear, I feel that Cecily and I like each other best at a distance. But if you feel you would like to go over again for a bit, you mustn't mind me. I can get on very well alone." "That's your unselfish outlook. I'm not going to leave you at present. I couldn't." She wrote to her cousin Guy that same day, enclosed Bertha Preston's letter, and told him that at present she was tied to her uncle.