"Not just yet—not here," he said, in an
agitated voice. "I—I am so taken by surprise
—almost terrified. Will you leave me for a few
minutes? I will come out to you presently in
the churchyard."

"Oh, certainly," replied Mr. Trefalden, and
turned towards the door. Saxon sprang after
him, and grasped him by the arm.

"One moment," exclaimed he, pointing to a
little stone tablet let into the church wall about
half way between the organ and the porch. "Did
he know, too?"

The tablet bore the name of Saxon Trefalden,
and the date of his death.

"Your father and your uncle both knew it,"
replied Mr. Trefalden, gravely. "This fortune
would have been his now, instead of yours, if he
had lived to claim it."

Saxon turned away with a deep sob, and his
cousin went out into the sunshine.

Left alone in the little silent church, the young
man covered his face with his hands, and burst
into tears.

"God help me!" murmured he. "What
shall I do? I am so young, so ignorant, so
unfit to bear this burden. God help me, and guide
me to use these riches rightly!"

And then he knelt down beside the little organ,
and prayed.

CHAPTER XII. ON THE TERRACE AT
CASTLETOWERS.

A BROAD gravelled terrace lying due east and
west, with vases of massive terra-cotta full of
glossy evergreens placed at regular intervals
along the verge of the broad parapet. A mighty
old Elizabethan mansion of warm red brick,
standing back in a deep angle of shade, with all
its topmost gables, carved scutcheons, and
gilded vanes glittering to the morning sun. A
foreground of undulating park traversed by a
noisy rivulet, and rich in old gnarled oaks
planted at the time of the Restoration. A
distance of blue hills and purple common, relieved
here and there by stretches of fir plantation
jutting out into the hazy heath-land, like wooded
promontories sloping to the sea. On the terrace,
a peacock with all his gorgeous plumage
displayed; a lady feeding him from her own white
hand; and two gentlemen standing by. The
time, the second day of April, balmy, sunny,
redolent of the violet and the thorn. The county,
Surrey. The place, Castletowers.

"How you flatter that bird, Mademoiselle
Colonna!" said one of the gentlemen; a tall,
soldierly man, with a deep sabre-scar across his
left temple, and some few grey hairs silvering his
thick moustache and beard. "His disposition
was always a perfect balance between vanity and
ill nature, but since your advent, the brute has
become more insufferable than ever. Take care!
I never see your hand so near his beak without a
shudder."

"Fear nothing on my account, Major Vaughan,"
replied the lady; "and pray do not be unjust to
Sardanapalus. He is quite an altered bird; and
as gentle as a dove—with me."

"You do well to add that clause, my dear lady,
for we can all bear witness to the way in which
his majesty 'takes it out' in viciousness when
you are not by. He flew at Gulnare not an hour
ago, down by the five oaks yonder; and I
believe, if I had not chanced to be within hail, and
if the mare were not the most self-possessed
beast in creation, there would have been battle,
murder, and sudden death between them."

"Really? You make me prouder than ever of
my conquest."

The soldier shrugged his shoulders.

"Pshaw!" said he, "what is one bar on the
medal, more or less, to the hero of a hundred
fields?"

"Major Vaughan, you are complimentary."

"Vaughan's pretty speeches always smell of
powder," laughed the younger gentleman, who
was leaning against the parapet close by.

"Bah! que veux-tu, mon cher? A man can
no more shake off the associations of twenty
years, than he can shake off the bronze from his
skin.

   You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will,
   The scent of the barrack will hang round it still!"

Mademoiselle Colonna looked up quickly, still
feeding the peacock from her open palm.

"I like your compliment the better, Major
Vaughan, for what Lord Castletowers calls its
smell of powder," said she. "It is a familiar
perfume to me, remember."

"I don't like to remember it," muttered the
soldier, pulling thoughtfully at his moustache.

"Nor I," said Lord Castletowers, in a low
voice.

"Why not, pray?" asked the lady, with a
heightened colour. "Is it not the incense of
Italian liberty?"

"Granted; but it is an incense so powerful,
that fair ladies do well to smell it from a
distance."

"Not when they can be of service in the
temple, Major Vaughan," replied Mademoiselle
Colonna, with one of her proud smiles. "But,
digressions apart, do you really tell me that
Sardanapalus attacked Gulnare without any kind
of provocation?"

"I do indeed."

"It is strange that he should be so savage!"

"It is still more strange that he should be so
docile! I believe, Mademoiselle Colonna, that
you are in possession of some taming secret
known only to yourself."

"Perhaps I am. May I be allowed to cite you
as a specimen of my success?"

Major Vaughan bowed almost to the ground.

"Oh! daughter of the sun and moon," said he,
"the head of thy slave is at thy disposal!"

Startled either by the major's profound salaam,
or by the sudden pealing of the breakfast-bell,
Sardanapalus threw up his head, and uttered an