within his, he walked into the garden, and followed the first path into which they turned. It led to a gentle ascent that commanded the road; and there, as if sent to startle and reproach him, Lord Stukeley met his sight. He grasped Francesca's arm, who was terrified by his sudden agitation, and whispered, "Look there!"
She looked, and saw one of the most graceful cavaliers that ever reined in a mettled horse. The white plumes of his cap danced gaily in the air, while the long curls hung over his shoulders. The likeness between him and his father was striking. The same fair broad brow, the same clear hazel eyes, the same frank smile; and as he bent forward to caress the greyhound leaping up at his side, Francesca thought that she had never seen a handsomer youth.
"That is your brother," said Lord Avonleigh.
She gazed upon him with an eager glance of pleasure and affection. "I shall like him so much! Will you not speak to him?"
"Speak to him!" interrupted Lord Avonleigh; "speak to him! and for what?—to tell him that he is a beggar—disgraced—that he has no right to the very name he bears! Speak to him!—you are impatient to assume your honours as heiress of Avonleigh!"
