“My mother,” he answers quietly. “She has been my right hand through life. I could not have got on without her.” “Your mother, Hector!” says the duke in a low voice. “Have you a mother alive?” “Yes, Evie, and one of the best that ever lived. I will introduce her to you some day. She knows you well by hearsay, for I have often spoken of you to her. But a favour, dear old Evie; don’t ever mention her to any one; promise me.” “Of course not, Hector. You know the simplest wish of yours is law to me. Well, here we are; we’ll finish our chat inside over some soup and oysters, and anything else you like to have.” The duke’s hand is on the bell, but he pulls it very softly. “Won’t do to peal it,” he remarks. “The sound would awaken Bernie, he’s such a light sleeper; and always will get up to welcome me if he awakes, dear little chap.” “Let’s see, how old is he now?” queries Hector D’Estrange; “well nigh sixteen, is he not? He’s a dear lad, and I like him especially on account of his love for you. He does love you, Evie.” “Yes,” answers the duke softly, “and I love him. Bernie is all I have got to love, unless it be you, Hector.” He does not see the bright flush that rises to Hector D’Estrange’s beautiful face, or the passionate look in the sapphire eyes. It might have startled him if he had. But the great massive doors are unclosing now, and he enters, followed by his friend. “Supper in my study, Repton, please,” he exclaims. “Is Lord Bernard asleep?” “Fast, your Grace,” answers that individual confidentially. “His lordship wanted to sit up for your Grace, but when I gave him your Grace’s message he went straight to bed.” “That’s right,” says the duke heartily. “Bernie’s a good lad. God bless him!” The two have moved on into the duke’s study, and Repton has hurried off to command his Grace’s supper to be served immediately. He has pompous manners, has Repton, a high opinion of himself, and certain notions of his own importance and dignity, but he is a good servant nevertheless, and a faithful one. He is not of the Stuggins’ class. He would as soon dream of keeping his Grace waiting for his supper as of jumping over the moon. The consequence is, that in the twinkling of an eye supper is served in the study. And the two friends, as they sit discussing it, wander off on some favourite theme, so that the time passes quicker than they think. Suddenly they are startled by hearing a bell peal. The duke springs to his feet. “Good heavens! What can that be?” he exclaims nervously. “Is it Bernie’s bell; is the boy ill, I wonder? I must go and see. It’s past two o’clock.” “It’s the front door bell, I think,” says Hector D’Estrange. “Hark, Evie! there are voices in the entrance hall. Open the door and listen.” The duke does so. A woman’s voice is plainly distinguishable, appealing to Repton.