“Much you know of Rosamond’s eyes!”

“Or you either, boxed up in the van.”

“Any way, they have made roast meat of his Reverence’s heart!  The other two take it much more easily.”

“She’s a mere chicken,” said Charlie.  “Who would have thought of Raymond being caught by a callow nestling?”

“And so uncommonly cool,” added Frank.

“It would take much to transform Raymond,” interposed the mother.  “Now, boys, away with you; I must have a little quiet, to repair myself for company after dinner.”

Charlie settled her cushions with womanly skill, and followed his brother.  “Well, Frank, which is the White Cat?  Ah, I thought so—­ she’s yet to come.”

“Not one is fit to hold a candle to her.  You saw that as plain as I did, Charlie; Eleonora beats them all.”

“Ah, you’re not the youngest brother, remember.  It was he who brought her home at last.  Come, you need not knock me down; I shall never see any one to surpass the mother, and I’ll have no one till I do.”

CHAPTER II The Population of Compton Poynsett

He wanted a wife his braw hoose to keep, But favour wi’ wooin’ was fashous to seek.—­Laird o’ Cockpen

In the bright lamplight of the dining-table, the new population first fully beheld one another, and understood one another’s looks.

There was much family resemblance between the five brothers.  All were well-grown well-made men, strong and agile, the countenance pleasing, rather square of mould, eyebrows straight and thick, nose well cut and short, chin firm and resolute-looking, and the complexion very dark in Raymond, Frank, and the absent Miles.  Frank’s eyes were soft, brown, rather pensive, and absent in expression; but Raymond’s were much deeper and darker, and had a steadfast gravity, that made him be viewed as formidable, especially as he had lost all the youthful glow of colouring that mantled in his brother’s olive cheek; and he had a short, thick, curly brown beard, while Frank had only attained to a black moustache, that might almost have been drawn on his lip with charcoal.

Charlie was an exception—­fair, blue-eyed, rosy, and with a soft feminine contour of visage, which had often drawn on him reproaches for not being really the daughter all his mother’s friends desired for her.

And Julius, with the outlines of the others, was Albino, with transparent skin mantling with colour that contrasted with his snowy hair, eyebrows, and the lashes, veiling eyes of a curious coral hue, really not unpleasing under their thick white fringes, but most inconveniently short of sight, although capable of much work; in fact, he was a curiously perfect pink-and-white edition of his dark and bronzed brother the sailor.