"Most inconsiderate. Kitty dear, run and fetch Mrs. Lovel a bunch of those crimson roses from the conservatory. Have at least that much color, Mrs. Lovel, for your boy's sake."

Miss Griselda turned indignantly away, and Mrs. Lovel crossed over to that part of the hall where Phil was standing.

"Mammy darling, how white you look!"

"Miss Griselda wants me to wear crimson roses in my dress, Phil."

"Oh, do, mother; they will look so nice. Here comes Kitty with a great bunch."

"Give me one," said Mrs. Lovel; "here, this one." Her fingers shook; she could scarcely take the flower. "Phil, will you put it into my dress? I won't wear more than one; you shall place it there. Child, child, the thorn has p.r.i.c.ked me--every rose has a thorn."

"Mother," whispered Phil, "you are quite sure of the surprise coming?"

"Yes, darling. Hush, dear. Stay close to me."

The time wore on. The guests were merry; the old place rang with unwonted life and mirth and laughter. It was many years since Avonsyde had been so gay. The weather was so lovely that even the older portion of the visitors decided to spend the time out of doors. They stood about in groups and talked and laughed and chatted. Tennis went on vigorously.

Rachel and Kitty, like bright fairies, were flitting here, there, and everywhere. Phil was strangely quiet and silent, standing always close to his mother. The chaise which had been sent to the railway station to meet Mr. Baring returned empty. This fact was communicated by Canning to his mistress, and as the time wore on Miss Griselda's face certainly looked less happy.

The guests streamed in to lunch, which was served in the great dining-hall in the old part of the house. Then several boys and girls would investigate the tower and would roam through the armory and the old picture-gallery.

"That man--that Rupert Lovel is Phil's ancestor," the boys and girls remarked. "He is not a bit like Phil."

"No; the present heir is an awfully weakly looking chap," the boys said.

"Why, he doesn't look as if he had strength enough even to go in for a game of cricket."

"Oh, but he's so interesting," the girls said, "and hasn't he lovely eyes!"

Then the guests wandered out again to the grounds and commented and wondered as to when the crucial moment would arrive, and when Miss Griselda, taking Phil's hand, would present him to them all as the long-sought-for heir.

"It is really a most romantic story," one lady said. "That little boy represents the elder branch of the family; the property goes back to the elder branch with him."

"How sad his mother seems!" remarked another; "and the boy himself looks dreadfully ill."

"Miss Griselda says he is one of the most wiry and athletic little fellows she ever came across," said a third lady.

And then a fourth remarked in a somewhat fretful tone:

"I wish that good Miss Lovel would present him to us and get it over.

One gets perfectly tired of waiting for one doesn't know what."

Just then there was a disturbance and a little hush. Some fresh visitors had arrived--some visitors who came on foot and approached through the forest. Miss Griselda, feeling she could wait no longer for Mr. Baring's arrival, had just taken Phil's hand and was leading him forward to greet her many guests, when the words she was about to say were arrested by the sudden appearance of these strangers on the scene.

Mr. Baring was one of them; but n.o.body noticed, and in their intense excitement n.o.body recognized, the sleek little lawyer. A lady, dressed quietly, with a gentle, calm, and gracious bearing, came first. At sight of her Rachel uttered a cry; she was the lady of the forest. Rachel flew to her and, unrestrained by even the semblance of conventionality, took her hand and pressed it rapturously to her lips.

"At last!" half-sobbed Rachel--"at last I see you, and you don't turn away! Oh, how I have loved you! how I have loved you!"

"And I you, my darling--my beloved."

"Kitty, come here," called out Rachel. "Kitty, Kitty, this is the lady of the forest!"

"And your mother, my own children. Come to my heart."

But n.o.body, not even Miss Katharine, noticed this reunion of mother and children; for Miss Griselda's carefully prepared speech had met with a startling interruption. The mother had stopped with her children, but two other unbidden guests had come forward. One of them was a boy--a boy with so n.o.ble a step, so gallant, so gay, so courtly a mien that all the visitors turned to gaze in unspoken admiration. Whose likeness did he bear? Why did Miss Griselda turn so deadly pale? Why did she drop Phil's hand and take a step forward? The dark eyes, the eagle glance, the very features, the very form of that old hero of her life, the long-dead-and-gone Rupert Lovel, now stood before her in very deed.

"Aunt Grizel," whispered little Phil, "isn't he splendid? Isn't he indeed the rightful heir? Just what he should be, so strong and so good!

Aunt Grizel, isn't it a great surprise? Mother, mother, speak, tell her everything!"

Then little Phil ran up to Rupert and took his hand and led him up to Miss Grizel.

"He always, always was the true heir," he said, "and I wasn't. Oh, mother, speak!"

Then there was a buzz of voices, a knot of people gathered quickly round Miss Griselda, and Phil, holding Rupert's hand fast, looked again at his mother. The visitors whispered eagerly to one another, and all eyes were turned, not on the splendid young heir, but on the boy who held his arm and looked in his face; for a radiance seemed to shine on that slight boy's pale brow which we see once or twice on the faces of those who are soon to become angels. The look arrested and startled many, and they gazed longer and with a deeper admiration at the false heir than at the true. For a couple of moments Mrs. Lovel had felt herself turning into stone; but with Phil's last appealing gaze she shook off her lethargy, and moving forward took her place by Miss Griselda's side, and facing the anxiously expecting guests said:

"I do it for Phil, in the hope--oh, my G.o.d!--in the vain hope of saving Phil. I arranged with Mr. Baring that I would tell the story. I wish to humiliate myself as much as possible and to show G.o.d that I am sorry. I do it for Phil, hoping to save him."

Then she began her tale, wailing it out as if her heart were broken; and the interested guests pressed closer and closer, and then, unperceived by any one, little Phil slipped away.

"I will go into the forest," he said to himself. "I can't bear this. Oh, mother! Oh, poor, poor mother! I will go into the forest. Everything will be all right now, and I feel always happy and at rest in the forest."

"Phil," said a voice, and looking round he saw that his Cousin Rupert had followed him. "Phil, you look ghastly. Do you think I care for any property when you look like that?"

"Oh, I'll be better soon, Rupert. I'm so glad you've come in time!"

"Where are you going now, little chap?"

"Into the forest. I must. Don't prevent me."

"No. I will go with you."

"But you are wanted; you are the real heir."

"Time enough for that. I can only think of you now. Phil, you do look ill!"

"I'll be better soon. Let us sit down at the foot of this tree, Rupert.

Rupert, you promise to be good to mother?"

"Of course. Your mother did wrong, but she is very brave now. You don't know how she spoke to my father and me yesterday. My father never liked her half as much as he does now. He says he is going to take Aunt Bella back with him--you and Aunt Bella, both of you--and you are always to live at Belmont, and Gabrielle and Peggy will make a lot of you."

"I'm so glad; but I'm not going, Rupert. Rupert, do ask Gabrielle to be very good to mother."

"Of course. How breathless you are! Don't talk--rest against me."

"Rupert, I must. Tell me about yesterday. Are all the links complete? Is it quite, quite certain that you are the heir?"

"Yes, quite--even the tankard has been found. Mrs. Lovel--the lady of the forest, you remember--her servant picked it up and gave it to us last night."

"Did she?" answered Phil. "I thought I had lost it in the bog. It fretted mother. I am glad it is found."