“Don’t be horrid. Father’s idea is that as we have no ancestors of our own, we may as well keep the Strangway portraits. The faces are the history of the house, father said, when mother wanted those dismal old pictures taken down to make way for a collection of modern art. So there they are, and I can’t help thinking that they _overlook_ us.” They were still standing before the trio of young faces contemplatively. “Are they _all_ dead?” asked Juanita, after a pause. “God knows. I believe it is a long time since any of them were heard of. Jasper Blake talks to me about them sometimes. He was in service here, you know, before he became my father’s bailiff. In fact, he only left Cheriton after the old squire’s death. He is fond of talking of the forgotten race, and it is from him that most of my information is derived. He told me about that unlucky lad,”—pointing to the younger boy. “He was in the navy, distinguished himself out in China, and was on the high road to getting a ship when he got broke for drunkenness—a flagrant case, which all but ended in a tremendous disaster and the burning of a man-of-war. He went into the merchant service—did well for a year or two, and then the old enemy took hold of him again, and he got broke _there_. After that he dropped through—disappeared in the great dismal swamp where the men who fail in this world sink out of knowledge.” “And the elder boy; what became of him?” “He was in the army—a tremendous swell, I believe,—married Lord Dangerfield’s youngest daughter, and cut a dash for two or three years, and then disappeared from society, and took his wife to Corsica, on the ground of delicate health. For anything I know to the contrary they may still be living in that free-and-easy little island. He was fond of sport, and liked a rough life. I fancy that Ajaccio would suit him better than Purbeck or Pall Mall.” “Poor things; I wonder if they ever long for Cheriton?” “If old Jasper is to be believed, they were passionately fond of the place, especially that girl. Jasper was groom in those days, and he taught her to ride. She was a regular dare-devil, according to his account, with a temper that no one had ever been able to control. But she seems to have behaved pretty well to Jasper, and he was attached to her. Her father couldn’t manage her anyhow. They were too much alike. He sent her to a school at Lausanne soon after that picture was painted, and she never came back to Cheriton. She ran away with an English officer who was home from India on furlough, and was staying at Ouchy for his health. She represented herself as of full age, and contrived to get married at Geneva. The squire refused ever to see her or her husband. She ran away from the husband afterwards, as I told you. In fact, to quote Jasper, she was an incorrigible bolter.” “Poor, poor thing. It is all too sad,” sighed Juanita. “Let us go into the library and forget them. There are no Strangways there, thank Heaven.”