At Ridley Court and Peppingham all was serene to the eye. Letters had come to the Court at least once every two weeks from Gaston, and the minds of the Baronet and his wife were at ease. They even went so far as to hope that he would influence his uncle; for it was clear to them both that whatever Gaston’s faults were, they were agreeably different from Ian’s. His fame and promise were sweet to their nostrils. Indeed, the young man had brought the wife and husband nearer than they had been since Robert vanished over-sea. Each had blamed the other in an indefinite, secret way; but here was Robert’s son, on whom they could lavish--as they did--their affection, long since forfeited by Ian. Finally, one day, after a little burst of thanksgiving, on getting an excellent letter from Gaston, telling of his simple, amusing life in Paris, Sir William sent him one thousand pounds, begging him to buy a small yacht, or to do what he pleased with it. “A very remarkable man, my dear,” Sir William said, as he enclosed the cheque. “Excellent wisdom--excellent!” “Who could have guessed that he knew so much about the poor and the East End, and all those social facts and figures?” Lady Belward answered complacently. “An unusual mind, with a singular taste for history, and yet a deep observation of the present. I don’t know when and how he does it. I really do not know.” “It is nice to think that Lord Faramond approves of him.” “Most noticeable. And we have not been a Parliamentary family since the first Charles’s time. And then it was a Gaston. Singular--quite singular! Coincidences of looks and character. Nature plays strange games. Reproduction--reproduction!” “The Pall Mall Gazette says that he may soon reach the Treasury Bench.” Sir William was abstracted. He was thinking of that afternoon in Gaston’s bedroom, when his grandson had acted, before Lady Dargan and Cluny Vosse, Sir Gaston’s scene with Buckingham. “Really, most mysterious, most unaccountable. But it’s one of the virtues of having a descent. When it is most needed, it counts, it counts.” “Against the half-breed mother!” Lady Belward added. “Quite so, against the--was it Cree or Blackfoot? I’ve heard him speak of both, but which is in him I do not remember.” “It is very painful; but, poor fellow, it is not his fault, and we ought to be content.” “Indeed, it gives him great originality. Our old families need refreshing now and then.” “Ah, yes, I said so to Mrs. Gasgoyne the other day, and she replied that the refreshment might prove intoxicating. Reine was always rude.” Truth is, Mrs. Gasgoyne was not quite satisfied. That very day she said to her husband: “You men always stand by each other; but I know you, and you know that I know.” “‘Thou knowest the secrets of our hearts’; well, then, you know how we love you. So, be merciful.” “Nonsense, Warren! I tell you he oughtn’t to have gone when he did. He has the wild man in him, and I am not satisfied.”