“As long as I remain, I suppose he regards me as the mistress of the house,” replied poor Evelyn, with some spirit; “and indeed I consider myself in that light myself. And though, Cousin Tresham, I receive you as my guest, I cannot permit you to deny me the company of such old friends as may come to see me, and comfort me in my sorrow.” “Oh, certainly,” retorted Tresham, somewhat abashed; “but it’s only for three weeks, you know. Take a bit of this bird? No? Well, then, I’ll take it myself, and not let it be wasted on cormorants like them servants;” and with this elegant sentiment, the lawyer helped himself to the second grouse, and swallowed his fourth glass of Madeira. “The wines are all yours, that old fool Merivale writes me,” he continued, presently; “rather hard that, when a lot of rubbishy old books are left me as heirlooms! Better let me take it off your hands in a lot; for my part, I don’t know what women want with wine at all--not but what Mrs. Tresham drinks like a fish when she’s out o’ sorts or out o’ temper. I’ll send a fellow over from Clitheroe to value it, if you’re agreeable; but I shan’t give a fancy price--you may take your oath of that.” Evelyn said that, not feeling equal to business matters at present, she had placed all her affairs in the hands of her old friend, Mr. Merivale. “Oh! I know him,” cried Tresham, “and a cunning old fox he is too; but he won’t come over _me_, I can tell you.” Another day, after dinner, Mr. Potts broke a long silence thus:--“Look y’here, cousin, I’ve been out marking timber all day, and a precious good fall I shall have, please the pigs; but I’ve never yet seen the _Tree_--the Family Tree--which the old Squire set such precious store by, and from which, I’ve heard, he lopped off the liveliest twig of all on ’em, and that’s me--ha, ha, ha! Let’s have a look at it, Miss Evelyn; it’s cur’ous to think he’s lopped off himself now, ain’t it?” Poor Evelyn went out wearily, and presently returned with the great scroll, and put it into her cousin’s hand. “Ha!” cried he, as he unrolled it; “this Tree’s been a long time a growing, hain’t it? Ha, ha, ha! this beats cock-fighting, don’t it? Now then, a pen, quick, and I’ll do a little bit o’ grafting. There, it looks pretty now, don’t it? See what I’ve written.” | +---------------------+---------------------+ | | Tresham, _m._ Belinda: da: of Silas Assumed the name and Potts, Cheesemonger. arms of Potts.