People called Sir Simon Orville an odd man. Mr. Raymond Trace in particular could not understand him; there were moments when that young gentleman deemed his respected uncle fit only for a lunatic asylum. He had surely thought him so this morning, had he been behind him. For Sir Simon, quitting Dr. Brabazon's, went on direct to Mrs. Paradyne's. It was not the first visit he had paid her in her present residence. Deprecating, as he did, the past frauds and crimes of which her husband was guilty, he yet in his benevolent heart thought the poor widow as much deserving of commiseration as were his own relatives; and he chose to show her that he thought it. His errand was to invite her and George to dinner on the next day, Christmas; that day of peace and goodwill to men. Mrs. Paradyne at first declined; but Sir Simon was so heartily pressing, there was no withstanding it, and she at length yielded. He went home, chuckling at the surprise it would be to his nephews, for they knew nothing of it, and he did not intend to tell them. A surprise it proved. They went for a very long walk after morning service on the following day, and had not been home many minutes when the guests arrived. Trace stared with all his eyes: he thought he must be dreaming. _Was_ that Mrs. Paradyne, coming into the room on the arm of Sir Simon, or were his eyes deceiving him? He might be wrong: he had not seen her indoors for many years. She wore a handsome silk gown, and a cap of real lace; rather reserved and discontented in her manner, but essentially a lady. George followed her in, and there could be doubt no longer. George was free, merry, open, cordial, as it was in George Paradyne's nature to be, and he went up to Trace with his hand outstretched, wishing him heartily a merry Christmas. Trace turned salmon-coloured: he would not see the hand; did not respond to it. Bertie Loftus, as if to cover the marked rudeness, put his hand cordially into George Paradyne's; and Trace would have annihilated Bertie, could looks have done it. "Is he mad?" groaned Trace in a side-whisper, alluding to his uncle. Bertie laughed. "Let us drop old grievances for once, Ray. It's Christmas Day." "If my mother—who died here—could but rise from her grave and see this!" retorted Trace. He went and stood at the window, looking out, his bosom beating with its wrongs. Dick leaped three feet into the air when he came in and saw the guests. The more the merrier, was Dick's creed. It was that of Talbot and Irby. And now that they met George Paradyne on equal grounds, away from the prejudices of the school, they all saw how much there was to admire and like in him—Trace excepted. Had George Paradyne suddenly cast his shell as a chrysalis does, and appeared before them an angel, Trace, in his condemning prejudice, would have turned his back upon him. It crossed Trace's mind to refuse to sit down to table. But he feared Sir Simon: it would not do to offend _him_.