At Editha’s feet there is playing a dark-eyed, noble-looking boy of two years—little Paul, the future Marquis of Wycliffe; while an old lady, of perhaps sixty, sits at a respectful distance and watches with her heart in her eyes his every movement, lest he should annoy “my lady” with his play and his constant prattle. This latter is Tom Drake’s mother. A short distance away there paces back and forth under the trees a white-aproned, white-capped nurse, with a fair-haired, blue-eyed little girl in her arms—the “small Lady Isabelle” she is called, being as yet only three months old, and of very tiny though perfect proportions. The only remaining one of this group—Madam Forrester—reclines in a chair a little in the background. She is as handsome and attractive as ever, with a tranquil joy in her face that bespeaks very little to wish for even in this world. Her white shapely hands are busied with some dainty piece of work destined to grace the “small ladyship,” who is her particular pride and comfort, while every now and then she joins in the conversation carried on chiefly by Editha and Paul Tressalia and his wife. Down the broad drive-way at some distance, and approaching slowly, are two men. One glance is sufficient to tell us which is Earle—there is no mistaking his grand proportions, his upright form, with its noble head setting square and firm and with manly dignity upon his broad shoulders. He is evidently giving some directions to his companion, for they stop every now and then while Earle points here and there, and then resumes his way. As they draw nearer the group under the beech, it is noticeable that his companion is slightly lame, and as they reach the spot he lifts his hat respectfully to Editha, smiles fondly into the eyes of the old lady who is watching Earle’s boy, and then passes on. It is none other than Tom Drake, once the midnight robber and abductor. Before Earle’s return he was able to be about once more, and had made himself acquainted with much pertaining to the estate. He had worked diligently and with great interest over the accounts Earle had left him, and unheeding the admonitions of his mother, who had arrived a few days after his departure, he refused to leave them until every figure was straightened. He had taken it upon himself to superintend the decorations of the mansion and grounds, when Earle had telegraphed on what day he should arrive at Wycliffe with his bride, and a scene of almost bewildering beauty greeted their home-coming. It was made a day of general rejoicing, the tenantry, servants, and laborers all turning out in gala attire to give them a glorious reception and welcome to Wycliffe.