"Art welcome, lad!" he said. "I would have seen thee before but had to attend to the kennelling of the hounds. So thy father has thought on the old Hall and old Sir Hildebrand at last! Well, better late than never! Here are thy cousins--Percie, Thornie, John, Dick, and Wilfred. But where's Rashleigh? Ay, here's Rashleigh! Take thy long body aside, Thornie, and let's see thy brother a bit. And here's my little Die, my sister's daughter, the prettiest girl on our dales, be the next who she may. And so now let's to the sirloin!" The five elder brethren of Osbaldistone Hall were all cast in one mould--tall, well-formed, athletic men, but dull of feature and expression, and seemingly without any intellect whatever. Rashleigh, the youngest, was the exact opposite of his brethren. Short in stature, thick-set, and with a curious halt in his gait, there was something about his dark irregular features--something evil, relentless, and cruel, which even the assumed gentleness of his words and the melody of his voice could not hide. His brothers were mere oafs in learning, none of whom ever looked at printed paper save to make a fly-book of it. But Rashleigh was learned, and, when he pleased, of manners exquisitely refined. It was, however, Miss Diana who really introduced Frank to his cousins, and the ceremony took place that day at dinner, while the young men were devoting themselves heartily to the meat which they piled up on their platters. The clatter of knives and forks covered her voice. "Your cousins," she said, "taken all together, form a happy compound of the sot, the gamekeeper, the bully, the horse-jockey, and the fool. But as no two leaves off the same tree are quite exactly alike, so these ingredients are differently mingled in your kinsmen. Percie, the son and heir, has more of the sot than of the gamekeeper, bully, horse-jockey, or fool. My precious Thornie is more of the bully--John, who sleeps whole weeks among the hills, has most of the gamekeeper. The jockey is powerful with Dickon, who rides two hundred miles by day and night, to be bought and sold himself at a race-meeting. And the fool so predominates over Wilfred's other characteristics that he may be termed a fool positive." Though Frank pressed her, Die Vernon refused to add Sir Hildebrand to her gallery of family portraits. "I owe him some kindnesses," she said, "or what at least were meant for such. And besides, I like him. You will be able to draw his picture yourself when you know him better." Having once before been successful with a compliment, when talking to his beautiful companion, Frank now summoned his French breeding and tried a second. He had been silent for a minute, and Miss Vernon, turning her dark eyes on him, had said with her usual careless frankness, "You are thinking of me!" "How is it possible," answered Master Frank, "that I should think of anything else, seated where I have the happiness to be."