Lord Ravenel for a time sat silent; then he rose to go, and thanked Mrs. Halifax for all her kindness in a voice choked with emotion.

“For your husband, I owe him more than kindness, as perhaps I may prove some day; if not, try to believe the best of me you can.  Good-bye!”

It was not many weeks after this that the old Earl of Luxmore died in France, and it then became known that his son, who now succeeded to the title, had voluntarily given up his claims on the estate in order to pay the heavy debts of his worthless father.

The home at Beechwood had lost another inmate—­for Edmund was now married—­when Guy, first going to Paris, had later sailed for America.  Years passed by, and he became a successful merchant in Boston, and then one day he wrote home to say he was coming back to the Old Country, and was bringing with him his partner.

The ship in which Guy and his friend sailed from America was wrecked, and Ursula, in her grief at the supposed loss of her eldest son, seemed to be wearing away, when one day a strange gentleman stood in the doorway—­tall, brown, and bearded—­and asked to see Miss Halifax.  Maud just glanced at him, then rose, and said somewhat coldly, “Will you be seated?”

“Maud, don’t you know me?  Where is my mother?”

The return of the son whom she had given up for dead brought joy again to the heart of Ursula, and her health seemed to revive, but it was clear that her days were now uncertain.  Scarcely less than the delight in Guy’s return was the discovery that his partner was none other than the new Earl of Luxmore, who, as plain Mr. William Ravenel, had by his life in America proved John Halifax was right when he said it was not too late for him to model his life on lines of true manliness.  He had, indeed, become all that John had desired of him—­a man and a gentleman—­so that Maud was, after all, to be the Countess of Luxmore.

But the days of John Halifax himself were now drawing to a close, and he was not without premonitions of his end; for in his talks with Phineas Fletcher, who had remained his faithful companion all these years, he spoke as one would speak of a new abode, an impending journey.  Death came to him very gently one day at sunset, just after he had smiled to Phineas, when his old friend, looking towards Lord Luxmore and his future bride, who were with a group of the young people, had said, “I think sometimes, John, that William and Maud will be the happiest of all the children.”

He smiled at this, and a little later seemed to be asleep; but when Maud came up and spoke to him, he was dead.  While he was sleeping thus, the Master had called him.  His sudden end was so great a shock to the frail life of Ursula, that when they buried John Halifax in the pretty Enderley churchyard they laid to rest with him his wife of three-and-thirty years, who had been a widow but for a few hours.

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