Helen's letter had fallen upon Polydore like a thunderbolt. She had, indeed, in previous communications somewhat ruffled his serenity by indistinct references to the new solicitude she detected in Randolph; but the worthy chaplain readily explained all similar hints by the novelty of his old pupil's situation. "He will become used to it before long, Mr. Griffith," Polydore would say, when the steward ventured to remind him of their difference of opinion respecting the orphans' scheme. "'Tis only the roughness of a first meeting with the world. The points will be soon rubbed smooth. There's a great difference between the Temple and Trevethlan Castle." In reply to which sort of remark, Griffith could only shrug his shoulders, and hope it might all turn out well in the end. So when the missive arrived, in which Helen announced that her brother had proclaimed their real name, and abandoned his career, and that they should follow the letter without delay, Polydore was struck with sudden consternation. The steward was too delicate to show that he felt no similar surprise in the chaplain's presence, but to his wife he avowed that he was not in the least astonished. "A Trevethlan conceal his name!" he exclaimed. "It's not in the blood. No, Charlotte Griffith; if we are poor, we are also proud. The secret would be always on the tip of his tongue. Why, suppose he quarrelled? Not unlikely, I can tell you, in one of our house. D'ye think, Mrs. Griffith, Randolph Trevethlan would go out as Mr. Morton? Pooh! pooh!" Mrs. Griffith rather shuddered at the idea, but she remembered sundry anecdotes of the picture gallery which forbade her to impeach the justice of her husband's position. Whatever were the cause of the return, she rejoiced at the effect, and spread the same feeling among all the little household, by her orders to prepare for the reception of her young master and mistress. So they came. It was early in the afternoon when their chaise rattled round the green of the hamlet; but a cold sleet drove along upon the wind, and kept the villagers within doors. The folk hurried to their windows only in time to see that the carriage had passed, but the extreme rarity of such a visitation drew forth a few of the curious to gaze after the chaise, as it wound more slowly up the ascent of the base-court. Randolph lay back in his corner, gloomy and foreboding; but Helen leant forward to catch the first glimpse of an old familiar face. And Jeffrey was duly on the watch; he caught sight of the carriage as it began the ascent; he soon recognized his young lady's face at the window; the gates flew open under his hand; before the travellers had alighted at the hall-door, he had run the old flag to the top of its staff, and a faint cheer from the hamlet greeted the appearance of the well-known signal. The orphans were at home.