The lad’s eyes wandered over the walls, which were bare enough to bring his quick attention to rest on the picture of a man in uniform that hungover the mantel--the picture of handsome Cornelius Mauduit Modeyne as he had been when he married the mild beauty with the tragic eyes that dreamed out of the picture hanging pendant to his, and to whom the child bore more than a little likeness. Had the pictures been inspired with the history of these lives, they would have revealed the early death of the brooding beauty in the birth of the small child whose hands were now the only hands that tended these two miniatures with the caressing touch of affection--the man’s picture would have continued the confidence, and told of handsome Corney Modeyne’s seeking relief from loneliness in the mad lees of the bottle--it would have whispered, too, of the meeting of his old comrades in his room to tell him he must slip quietly out of his old regiment--of his retirement with a step of rank--of the two years of his living upon his relations until they grew first weary, then exasperated, then hostile towards him, and the always rather silent child that flushed at all their harsh thrusts at her easy-going father--and of his final collapse as that mysterious personage who is an urgent daily “something in the city.” It would have revealed what was hidden even from the buzzing gossips of the Street with the Good Address--that Major Cornelius Mauduit Modeyne, when he sallied out at the breakfast hour with a swaggering air, in well-groomed attire, polished boots, and shining hat, as soon as he could be got out of bed by the silent child who guarded all his secrets that could be hid, owed his good care to those self-same small hands. As it would also have revealed that, in spite of all shame, the dainty hands that did these things and had these cares, touched everything that had to do with this foolish sinning man with a fierce affection. Indeed, there is more in noble tradition than in blood. The battle-cry of the ancient Modeynes had been Loyalty. Modeyne came of old aristocratic Catholic stock, but he had long ceased to attend his church; and the image, a very beautiful image of the Mary and Child, that stood upon his mantel was the sole relic of his old beliefs--even it did not stand there from any vague sentiment towards his church; indeed, it had not gone to the pawnbroker as much from negligence as from religious bias.