with the comfort of Cecil Vavasour’s existence--he was constitutionally, and therefore incurably, _shy_. Now the shyness of a middle-aged gentleman who has lived much in society, and whose intellect is above the average, is one of those “facts” to believe in which it is necessary that the individual called upon to exhibit this credulity should be either a physiologist, or himself the victim of _mauvaise honte_. It is probable that Mr. Vavasour met with few or none who were capable either of understanding or making allowances for his infirmity; and thus it chanced that, though no man living was more formed by nature to enjoy the blessings of friendship, he passed through life without meeting (of his own degree) a single congenial soul into whose breast he could pour out his sorrows, or ask for sympathy with his joys. What wonder is it if under these circumstances, and with his large warm heart dependent solely upon _them_ for tenderness and love, he should have fairly doated on his children? There were four of them. The eldest, Arthur, a handsome dark-eyed lad, was destined by the provisions of his grandfather’s will to enter into possession, at the age of twenty-five, of by far the greater portion of the Gillingham property, provided that on his--the said eldest son of Lady Millicent Vavasour--arriving at the above-named age, his mother should not be in legal phrase a _femme couverte_. This singular disposition of property occasioned at the time of the Earl’s decease no little surprise, but owing probably to the circumstance that there was at that period no “heir male of Lady Millicent’s body” in existence, only a very limited amount of discontent was mingled with the universal astonishment of all who thought themselves qualified to give an opinion on the subject. The child next in age to this fortune-favoured individual was also a son; he was little more than a year his brother’s junior, and inherited more of his father’s disposition than had been engrafted on his elder brother. The two boys offered (both in person and character) marked contrasts to each other. The heir was, as I before said, a handsome fellow, tall, dark-eyed, and well formed. From his cradle he had been a child of whose outward comeliness any parent might be proud, and Lady Millicent _was_ proud of him accordingly--proud, but not fond; it was not in her nature to attach herself to any living being, save and except the heiress of Gillingham: and the effects of this monopoly of sentiment very soon became apparent in the young family growing up around her.