Dr. Beauclerc turned his head to see who was entering the room, for the door had opened. It was a handsome stripling, growing rapidly into manhood--Frederick, heir of the St. John's. He was already keeping his terms at Oxford; Mrs. St. John had sent him there too early; and in the intervals, when they were sojourning at Westerbury, he was placed in the college; not as an ordinary scholar; the private pupil, and the chief one too, of Mr. Wilberforce. The dean gave him a nod, and took the hand of the eager, exquisite face turned to him. Like his daughter, he was a great admirer of beauty in the human face: it would often give him a thrill of intense pleasure. "What is your name, my boy?" "Henry Cheveley Arkell, sir." The dean glanced at Peter Arkell with a half smile. He remembered yet the commotion caused in Westerbury when Miss Cheveley married the tutor, and the name brought it before him. "How old are you?" "Nearly ten, sir." "If I could paint faces, I'd paint his," cried Georgina to young St. John, in a half whisper. "Why don't _you_ do it?" "I suppose you mean his portrait?" "You know I do. But, Fred, is he not beautiful?" "You may get sent away if you talk," was the gentleman's answer. "Has he been brought on well in his Latin? Is he fit to enter as a king's scholar?" inquired the dean of Peter Arkell. "He has been brought on well in all necessary studies, Mr. Dean; I may say it emphatically, _well_. I was in the college school myself, and know what is required. But learning has made strides of late, sir; boys are brought on more rapidly; and I can assure you that many a lad has quitted the college school in my days, his education finished, not as good a scholar as my son is now. I have taken pains with him." "And we know what that implies from you, Mr. Arkell," said the dean, with a kindly smile. "You would like to be a king's scholar, my brave boy?" "Oh yes, sir," said Henry, his transparent cheek flushing with hope. "Then you shall be one. I will give you the first vacancy under myself." They retired with many thanks; Frederick St. John giving Henry's bright waving hair a pull, as he passed him, by way of parting salutation. "Papa! if you don't put that child into the college school, I will," began Georgina; her tone one of impassioned earnestness. "I will; though I have to beg it of old Wilberforce. I never saw such a face. I have fallen in love with it." "I am going to put him in, Georgie. I like his face myself. But he can't go in until there's a vacancy. I must ask Mr. Wilberforce." "There are two vacancies now, Dr. Beauclerc," spoke up Frederick St. John. "One of them is under you, I know." "Indeed!"