Madam Everard and niece were seated in the study after breakfast. It had been the colonel's sitting-room, and they occupied it with fond affection, no one, however, making use of his arm-chair. It seemed as if his spirit was often there, come down from the realms of the blest, while they talked of him and their lost Lucy. The servant entered, and Madam Everard heard with no small dissatisfaction the names of her little-esteemed brother-in-law and his eldest son. They entered the room not with quite so much confidence as might have been expected. "Why, Ann, you look somewhat solemn this fine morning," observed the elder, as he took a seat, not very close to Madam Everard. Silas drew somewhat nearer to Mabel, but rising, she placed herself on the sofa near her aunt, and continued the embroidery at which she was working, scarcely looking up. The elder Sleech turned his hat about several times. He did not look as if he felt himself a member of the Everard family. Silas had more impudence than his father, and this enabled him to overcome a certain feeling which would intrude, in spite of his assumed confidence. "I have come about business, Ann," at last said Mr. Sleech the elder, "Silas and I. We wish to do everything pleasant and to give no annoyance; but you must know, Ann, when your elder sister married me, she married the family lawyer that was. You have always supposed that Tom Everard--the captain's father--had married abroad; at all events the captain was brought home as a baby by Tom, who said he was his lawful child. Now it turns out that either Tom was mistaken, or else he told a fib--I don't like to use strong language. If a man cannot prove his marriage he is not married; that's what the law says. Now Tom to his death never had any marriage certificate to exhibit. It follows, therefore, in the eye of the law, that he was not married, and so you see your sister Jane became heir-at-law of her late brother, and I, as her representative, am--or rather my son Silas is--the rightful possessor of Stanmore Park. It's as clear as a pike-staff, Ann, and so there's no use making any ado about it." While Mr. Sleech, senior, was speaking, Madam Everard had maintained a perfect composure. Poor Mabel's colour came and went. She felt a choking sensation in her throat. Not for herself did she care, she was thinking of her gallant father, away from home fighting his country's battles--when he returned to find himself disinherited. It would be a grievous blow. She felt, too, that she could no longer, when she gave her hand, endow her husband with the wealth she thought she should value more for his sake than for her own.