"This is your first visit to Hampton, I believe, sir," the Captain remarked, when they were seated under the trees. "It is not Northumberland, sir; we haven't the push, and the bustle, and the smoke, but we have a pleasant little town, sir, and we're glad to welcome you here. I think you will like it. It's a long time since Clarendon had a tenant, sir. Colonel Duval's been dead nearly ten years now. Your father and he were particular friends, I believe." Croyden assured him that such was the case. "Yes, sir, the Colonel often spoke of him to me with great affection. I can't say I was surprised to know that he had made him his heir. He was the last of the Duvals--not even a collateral in the family--there was only one child to a generation, sir." Manifestly, it was not known in Hampton how Hugh Croyden came to be the Colonel's heir, and, indeed, friendship had prompted the money-loan, without security other than the promise of the ultimate transfer of Clarendon and its contents. And Croyden, respecting the Colonel's wish, evident now, though unexpressed either to his father or himself, resolved to treat the place as a gift, and to suppress the fact that there had been an ample and adequate consideration. After a short visit, Captain Carrington arose to go. "Come over and take supper with us, this evening, sir," said he. "I want you to meet Mrs. Carrington and my granddaughter." "I'll come with pleasure," Croyden answered, thinking of the girl with the blue-black hair and slender ankles. "It's the house yonder, with the white pillars--at half-after-six, then, sir." * * * * * As Croyden approached the Carrington house, he encountered Miss Carrington on the walk. "We have met before," she said, as he bowed over her hand. "I was your original guide to Clarendon. Have you forgot?" "Have I forgot?" said Croyden. "Do you think it possible?" looking her in the eyes. "No, I don't." "But you wanted to hear me say it?" "I wanted to know if you could say it," she answered, gayly. "And how have I succeeded?" "Admirably!" "Sufficiently well to pass muster?" "Muster--for what?" she asked, with a sly smile. "For enrollment among your victims." "Shall I put your name on the list--at the foot?" she laughed. "Why at the foot?" "The last comer--you have to work your way up by merit, you know." "Which consists in?" "_That_ you will have to discover." "I shall try," he said. "Is it so very difficult of discovery?" "No, it should not be so difficult--for you," she answered, with a flash of her violet eyes. "Mother!" as they reached the piazza--"let me present Mr. Croyden." Mrs. Carrington arose to greet him--a tall, slender woman, whose age was sixty, at least, but who appeared not a day over forty-five, despite the dark gown and little lace cap she was wearing. She seemed what the girl had called her--the mother, rather than the grandmother. And when she smiled!