And then, there arose before him a vision of a stately old house in the north country, the home of the Trevellians, and in the family vault the present owner, a white haired man of seventy-five was lying, and by his side his puny eldest son, and also stalwart Harry, who looked as if a broad-ax could not kill him, and he, Jack Trevellian now the bachelor with only 500 pounds a year, and most extravagant tastes, was there as Sir Jack, and with him this little Welsh maiden, who was bending over the threadbare coat, and trying to force back the tears her father’s words had caused her.

“I am a knave and a murderer,” Jack thought.  “Uncle Paul, and Dick, and Hal would have to die, and little Flossie, whom I like so much, be left alone, before all this could be;” then, with a premonitory cough, he knocked lightly at the open door.

“Oh, Mr. Trevellian!” Bessie exclaimed, springing to her feet and blushing scarlet.  “How you frightened me!  Pray walk in.  I did not expect you.  I—­I—­am mending father’s coat.”

“Yes, I see,” he answered, offering her his hand after he had greeted her father with his most graceful, courtly manner.  “I see you are.  I wonder now if you are doing it well.  I used to have some experience in such matters when I was roughing it in Australia.  I am a beautiful darner; let me try my hand, please;” and taking the coat from her before she had time to recover from her astonishment, he seated himself upon a chair and began industriously to ply the needle, while Bessie looked on amazed.

“You see I am quite a tailor,” he said, pushing his thick brown hair back from his white forehead, and flashing upon her one of those rare smiles with which he always obtained the mastery and made friends even of his enemies.

How charming he was, and he never seemed to see the humble room, the faded carpet, the dingy oil-cloth, or the coarse hair-cloth furniture which had offended Neil and made him call the place a hole.  Of course, Jack did see them all; he could not help that, but he acted as if he had all his life been accustomed to just such surroundings, and was so familiar and affable that both Bessie and her father were more charmed with him than on the previous day.

“By the way,” he said at last, when the coat was mended and approved, “I met Neil at the station; he had been here, I suppose?”

“Yes,” Bessie replied, a painful flush suffusing her cheeks as she recalled what her father had said of Neil.

“I am half afraid he has forestalled me, then,” Jack continued.  “I came to ask you and your father to drive with me in the park this afternoon; that is, if Neil is not ahead of me.”

“Oh, Mr. Trevellian,” Bessie cried, turning her bright face to him, while the glad tears sprang to her eyes, and she forgot that until yesterday she did not know there was such a person as this elegant man making himself so much at home with them; forgot everything except the pleasure it would be to drive with her father in Hyde Park, and “be one of them,” as she expressed it to herself.