The Miss Hazelhursts greeted Evelyn with the utmost kindness, and said they had already intended to call upon her the following day, and that the Chaplain, Mr. fforester, had asked leave to accompany them. When Evelyn answered that she would be delighted to see them, the old ladies said how fortunate they were in having such a quiet, sensible, and wise man for their Chaplain as Mr. fforester, and then the Duchess warned her to be careful to respect that good man’s one weakness, which was his resentment at having his name spelt with a large F; for, like the ffiendses, and the ffaringdons, and the ffolkeses, Mr. fforester took it as a personal affront to be addressed without the small ff’s, which, rightly or wrongly, he held to be the right way of spelling his name. “We,” he always added, when the subject was mentioned--“we belong to the original family, you know, while the Foresters are mere modern upstarts, who may indeed claim a common origin, but of whom we fforesters know nothing whatsoever. Still I have no reason to doubt that they are respectable.” When the four ladies, after an excellent dinner--for the Duchess studied perfection in all things, small as well as great--had returned to the drawing-room, and were seated before the fire, the door was suddenly thrown open, and a handsome young man, bursting into the room, threw himself into the arms of the Duchess, whom he kissed affectionately. “My dear mother,” he cried, “I am so glad to see you; and how are the Aunts?” he added, shaking hands heartily with the two old ladies, “plotting, I suppose, as usual, to kill some one with kindness; I----good heavens! I beg pardon, mother, but I thought you and the Aunts were alone!” This last exclamation was caused by the young Duke’s suddenly catching sight of Evelyn, who, seated in a low easy chair behind a screen, had hitherto escaped his notice. “Miss Manwaring,” said the Duchess, “let me present to you my son; Frank,” she added, “you will find in Miss Manwaring the sister of an old and dear friend, to whom you have often told me you owe a deep debt of gratitude.” “I am sure, Miss Manwaring,” said the young man, as they shook hands, “I am delighted to make your acquaintance; and do you know, if you will allow me to say so, there is a strong likeness between you and my late dear friend? I am so astonished and so glad to see you.” Evelyn’s great eyes filled with tears, and she could scarcely find voice sufficient to respond to the young Duke’s salutation. But she felt very glad to see one who had loved and who had been loved by her late brother. She would have known the Duke anywhere, for, in point of fact, she possessed several photographs of him in the book which Wilfred had left behind him when banished from Holmcastle, and for this reason she did not look on him as a stranger. “And now, my dear boy,” said his mother, “to what are we indebted for this sudden invasion?”