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“How many children are there?” asked Marion.

“Two, both girls, ten and twelve, I think, their ages are. Their father died two years ago, so their uncle, Ralph Severn, is now the head of the family. Lady Severn has never got over Sir John’s death. It was very sudden, the result of an accident. He was her favourite too. I don’t fancy she cares very much for Sir Ralph, but, as far as I can judge, don’t think it is very much to be wondered at.”

“Why?” asked Marion, “is he not a good son?”

“Oh dear, yes,” said Cissy, “unexceptionably good in every respect. In fact, I fancy he is something of a prig and not half so attractive as his brother was. And besides, Sir Ralph has not been very much with his own family. John Severn was splendidly handsome, George has often told me. A grand, tall, fair man, and with the most winning manners. The sort of man who did everything well; riding and shooting and all those sorts of things you know. No wonder his mother was proud of him! Whereas Ralph is quite different, quite unlike his family, for they are all remarkably handsome people, and he is not at all so, I should say. Dark and sallow and gloomy looking. Horribly learned too, I believe. A great antiquary, and able to read all the languages of the Tower of Babel, I’ve been told. So he’s sure to be fusty and musty. He spent several years poking about for all manner of old books and manuscripts somewhere in the East.”