Sir Kenelm Digby, the old cavalier philosopher!---a new name of interest to consecrate the place! Evelyn could have lingered all day in the room; and perhaps as an excuse for a longer sojourn, hastened to the piano--it was open--she ran her fairy fingers over the keys, and the sound from the untuned and neglected instrument thrilled wild and spiritlike through the melancholy chamber. "Oh, do sing us something, Evy," cried Cecilia, running up to, and drawing a chair to, the instrument. "Do, Evelyn," said Caroline, languidly; "it will serve to bring one of the servants to us, and save us a journey to the offices." It was just what Evelyn wished. Some verses, which her mother especially loved, verses written by Maltravers upon returning after absence to his own home, had rushed into her mind as she had touched the keys. They were appropriate to the place, and had been beautifully set to music. So the children hushed themselves, and nestled at her feet; and after a little prelude, keeping the accompaniment under, that the spoiled instrument might not mar the sweet words and sweeter voice, she began the song. Meanwhile in the adjoining room, the little study which Caroline had spoken of, sat the owner of the house! He had returned suddenly and unexpectedly the previous night. The old steward was in attendance at the moment, full of apologies, congratulations, and gossip; and Maltravers, grown a stern and haughty man, was already impatiently turning away, when he heard the sudden sound of the children's laughter and loud voices in the room beyond. Maltravers frowned. "What impertinence is this?" said he in a tone that, though very calm, made the steward quake in his shoes. "I don't know, really, your honour; there be so many grand folks come to see the house in the fine weather, that--" "And you permit your master's house to be a raree-show? You do well, sir." "If your honour were more amongst us, there might be more discipline like," said the steward, stoutly; "but no one in my time has cared so little for the old place as those it belongs to." "Fewer words with me, sir," said Maltravers, haughtily; "and now go and inform those people that I am returned, and wish for no guests but those I invite myself." "Sir!" "Do you not hear me? Say that if it so please them, these old ruins are my property, and are not to be jobbed out to the insolence of public curiosity. Go, sir." "But--I beg pardon, your honour--if they be great folks?" "Great folks!--great! Ay, there it is. Why, if they be great folks, they have great houses of their own, Mr. Justis." The steward stared. "Perhaps, your honour," he put in, deprecatingly, "they be Mr. Merton's family: they come very often when the London gentlemen are with them." "Merton!--oh, the cringing parson. Harkye! one word more with me, sir, and you quit my service to-morrow."