from the way in which Elsie’s caprices were indulged.  She had horses and carriages to suit herself; she sent to the great city for everything she wanted in the way of dress.  Even her diamonds—­and the young man knew something about these gems—­must be of considerable value; and yet she wore them carelessly, as it pleased her fancy.  She had precious old laces, too, almost worth their weight in diamonds; laces which had been snatched from altars in ancient Spanish cathedrals during the wars, and which it would not be safe to leave a duchess alone with for ten minutes.  The old house was fat with the deposits of rich generations which had gone before.  The famous “golden” fire-set was a purchase of one of the family who had been in France during the Revolution, and must have come from a princely palace, if not from one of the royal residences.  As for silver, the iron closet which had been made in the dining-room wall was running over with it:  tea-kettles, coffee-pots, heavy-lidded tankards, chafing-dishes, punch-bowls, all that all the Dudleys had ever used, from the caudle-cup which used to be handed round the young mother’s chamber, and the porringer from which children scooped their bread-and-milk with spoons as solid as ingots, to that ominous vessel, on the upper shelf, far back in the dark, with a spout like a slender italic S, out of which the sick and dying, all along the last century, and since, had taken the last drops that passed their lips.  Without being much of a scholar, Dick could see well enough, too, that the books in the library had been ordered from the great London houses, whose imprint they bore, by persons who knew what was best and meant to have it.  A man does not require much learning to feel pretty sure, when he takes one of those solid, smooth, velvet-leaved quartos, say a Baskerville Addison, for instance, bound in red morocco, with a margin of gold as rich as the embroidery of a prince’s collar, as Vandyck drew it,—­he need not know much to feel pretty sure that a score or two of shelves full of such books mean that it took a long purse, as well as a literary taste, to bring them together.

To all these attractions the mind of this thoughtful young gentleman may be said to have been fully open.  He did not disguise from himself, however, that there were a number of drawbacks in the way of his becoming established as the heir of the Dudley mansion-house and fortune.  In the first place, Cousin Elsie was, unquestionably, very piquant, very handsome, game as a hawk, and hard to please, which made her worth trying for.  But then there was something about Cousin Elsie,—­(the small, white scars began stinging, as he said this to himself, and he pushed his sleeve up to look at them)—­there was something about Cousin Elsie he couldn’t make out.  What was the matter with her eyes, that they sucked your life out of you in that strange way?  What did she always wear a necklace for?  Had she some such love-token on her neck as the old Don’s revolver had left on his?  How safe would anybody feel to live with her?  Besides, her father would last forever, if he was left to himself.  And he may take it into his head to marry again.  That would be pleasant!