“Papa,” said Bride one morning, seeking her father with an open letter in her hand, and a soft flush upon her cheek, “I have a letter here from Eustace. He thinks of coming to the castle to tell us all about the bill, and what has been happening in London, and what is likely to happen.” The Duke looked up with something approaching eagerness in his face. He had missed his young kinsman during these past months, and was beginning to feel it pleasant to have Eustace about the place, even though they were by no means of entire accord in their views or in their outlook on life. Although he seldom spoke on the subject, the old peer had begun to feel his hold upon life rather uncertain. He had never recovered the shock of his wife’s death, and he experienced from time to time an uneasy sensation in the region of the heart, which made him suspect that that organ was in some sort affected. His father had died suddenly of syncope at seventy years of age, and the Duke remembered hearing him describe sensations exceedingly like those from which he began at times to suffer himself. He could not therefore but feel a wish to see something settled as to Bride’s future. She was very much alone in the world, and would be in sore need of a protector were her father taken away. He had long felt that a husband’s loving and protecting care was what she truly needed, and rather blamed himself for having kept her so entirely from meeting with men of her own age and station. But if his own heir, this young enthusiast Eustace, of whom he was really beginning to think well and to regard with affection, had really succeeded in making an impression upon the girl’s sensitive heart, nothing could be more entirely satisfactory from a worldly standpoint. No one knew better than the Duke how well fitted his daughter was to be the future Duchess of Penarvon, and how greatly she would be beloved by all, as indeed she was already. He had entertained this hope when first Eustace came amongst them, and had then allowed it to fall into abeyance, fearing how the young man’s character would turn out, and that he and Bride would never agree. But hope had revived upon the second visit, when Eustace had shown a different calibre of mind and a greater moderation and thoughtfulness. The hearts of both father and daughter had changed towards him, and again a hope had awakened within the Duke’s heart that he should still live to see his daughter the wife of the man who must succeed him at Penarvon. Thus this announcement of Bride’s came upon him with a note of gladness, and he looked at her with unwonted animation. “A visit from Eustace? That is good hearing. I had written to ask if he could not spend his Christmas with us. Is this his answer?”