On the day of the funeral no one disputed Richard’s right to the place he took, and when it was over, he joined the company assembled to hear the late baronet’s will. It was dated ten years before, and gave the two estates of Mortgrange and Cinqmer, which had been lady Ann’s father’s, to his son, Arthur Lestrange. There was in it no allusion to the possible existence of a son by his first wife.

Richard rose. The lawyer rose also.

“I am sorry, sir Richard,” he said, “that we can find no later will. There ought to have been some provision for the support of the title. Your title without money will do little for you.”

“My father died suddenly,” answered Richard, “and did not know of my existence until about five years ago.”

“All I can say is, I am very sorry.”

“Do not let it trouble you,” returned Richard. “It matters little to me. I am independent.”

“I am very glad to hear it. I had imagined it otherwise.”

“A man with a good trade and a good education must be independent!”

“Ah, I understand! But your brother will, as a matter of course, respond to your needs. I shall talk to him about it. The estate is quite equal to it.”

“The estate shall not be burdened with me,” said Richard with a smile. “I am the only one of the family free to do as he pleases.”

“But the title, sir Richard!”

“The title must look after itself. If I thought it in the smallest degree dependent on money for its dignity, I would throw it away. If it means anything, it means more than money and can stand without it. If it be an honour, please God I shall keep it honourable.”

As he left the room a servant met him with the message that lady Ann wished to see him in the library.

Cold as ever, but not colder than always, she poked her long white hand at him.

“This is awkward for you, Richard,” she said, “but more awkward still for Arthur. Mortgrange is at your service until you find some employment befitting your position. You must not forget the respect due the family. It is a great pity you offended your father.”

Richard was silent.

“He has left it, therefore, in my hands to do as I thought fit. Sir Wilton did not die the rich man people imagined him, but I am ready to place a thousand pounds at your disposal.”

“I should be sorry to make the little he has left you so much less,” answered Richard.

“As you please,” returned her ladyship.

“I should like to have a word with my sister Theodora,” said Richard.

“I doubt if she will see you. Miss Malliver, will you go and inquire whether Miss Lestrange is able to see Mr. Tuke?”

Miss Malliver came from somewhere and left the room.