“Quite true.  Poor young gentleman, he was to have married that cousin of his mother’s, Mistress Martha Browning, living at Emsworth.  She came on a visit, and they think she brought the infection, for she sickened at once, and though she had it favourably, is much disfigured.  Master Oliver caught it and died in three days, and all the house were down with it.  They say poor Mrs. Oakshott forgot her ailments and went to and fro among them all.  My mother would have gone to help in their need if she had been as well as she used to be.”

“How is it with the other son?  He was a personable youth enough.  I saw him at the ship launch in the spring, and thought both lads would fain have staid for the dance on board but for their grim old father.”

“You saw Robert, but he is not the elder.”

“What?  Is that shocking impish urchin whom we used to call Riquet with the tuft, older than he?”

“Certainly he is.  He writes from time to time to my mother, and seems to be doing well with his uncle.”

“I cannot believe he would come to good.  Do you remember his sending my brother and cousin adrift in the boat?”

“I think that was in great part the fault of your cousin for mocking and tormenting him.”

“Sedley Archfield was a bad boy!  There’s no denying that.  I am afraid he had good reason for running away from college.”

“Have you heard of him since?”

“Yes; he has been serving with the Life-guards in Scotland, and mayhap he will come home and see us.  My father wishes to see whether he is worthy to have a troop procured by money or favour for him, and if they are recalled to the camp at November it will be an opportunity.  But see—­who is coming through the Slype?”

“My uncle.  And who is with him?”

Dr. Woodford advanced, and with him a small slender figure in black.  As the broad hat with sable plume was doffed with a sweep on approaching the ladies, a dark head and peculiar countenance appeared, while the Doctor said, “Here is an old acquaintance, young ladies, whom I met dismounting at the White Hart, and have brought home with me.”

“Mr. Peregrine Oakshott!” exclaimed Anne, feeling bound to offer in welcome a hand, which he kissed after the custom of the day, while Lucy dropped a low and formal courtesy, and being already close to the gate of the house occupied by her family, took her leave till supper-time.

Even in the few steps before reaching home Anne was able to perceive that a being very unlike the imp of seven years ago had returned, though still short in stature and very slight, with long dark hair hanging straight enough to suggest elf-locks, but his figure was well proportioned, and had a finished air of high breeding and training.  His riding suit was point device, from the ostrich feather in his hat, to the toes of his well made boots, and his sword knew its place, as well as did those of the gentlemen that