IR THOMAS ELLESMERE sat

over his breakfast, quite alone, and, judging from the manner in which he neglected his grill and allowed his chocolate to cool, without the slightest vestige of an appetite. Something had evidently occurred to disconcert the baronet, and as Sir Thomas was not a Iman who was accustomed to have his will thwarted or his purpose crossed, he displayed anything but a spirit of servile submission to this novel dispensation of events. A widower of long standing-how long none knew-but so long, indeed, that it may reasonably be presumed whether it ever occurred to him as possible that the scheme of creation could be intended to include and consult any one's pleasure or convenience save his own-Sir Thomas Ellesmere was the incarnation of suavity and beneficence just so long as there was no let or hindrance to the fulfilment of all his projects and the realization of all his wishes. In a word, he could not tolerate contradiction of any kind, and, as has been hinted, it was quite plain that he had received some of that moral discipline this morning. Raikes, the butler, had just brought in the letter-bag, solemnly unlocked it in his master's presence, and arranged the contents, some half-dozen epistles plus the Times,' en échelon, on the table, which laborious duty concluded, that well-drilled functionary retired from the apartment, leaving Sir Thomas to the perusal of his correspondence and the consumption of his breakfast-and breakfast was a meal that the baronet usually took in a late as well as a substantial form.

A glorious August morning: and the window of Sir Thomas Ellesmere's oakpannelled, Turkey-carpeted, and velvetfitted room opened upon the lawn, from which a magnificent view of the park and of the hills that bounded the Ellesmere estate was obtainable. To all these attractions of nature their owner was as insensible apparently as to the culinary allurements of his cook. Only one letter had he opened, and that was signed, Your affectionate nephew,

Frank Netherton.' But Sir Thomas read it over and over again, and finally, having done so for the sixth time, crumpled it up, threw it down, and took to pacing the room.

'Very well,' soliloquized the proprietor of Ellesmere Hall, 'you have made your bed, Frank Netherton, and by Heaven you shall lie on it! What an utter fool! what a detestable idiot the lad must be! I suppose he is aware that though he must inherit the title I can leave every acre and every sovereign away from him-and I will. Married an actress! By George! in my day, if we cared about actresses, we did not marry them. "Love!"-"purity!". "perfect lady!"— so devilish likelymost actresses are!' Sir Thomas was certainly very angry indeed. An actress, by George! and that when he might have had Blanche Fairleigh to-morrow for the mere asking, and by joining the two estates have come into the finest property in the county. I can stand most things-this remark by-the-by, was only true in a very modified way'but not this. I'll send round for Pippins'-Mr. Pippins was Sir Thomas's solicitor in the neighbouring country town-and that precious nephew of mine shall know what a codicil means;' and Sir Thomas Ellesmere rang the bell with a considerable degree of energy.

'Raikes, send round to Elleston, with my compliments to Mr. Pippins, and beg him to come here at once-and, Raikes, find out Leatherstrap'- Mr. Leatherstrap was the baronet's head gamekeeper-and tell him I want to speak to him.'

The delivery of these mandates seemed somewhat to mollify the baronet, for he sat down in his chair with the air of a man who had relieved his conscience, opened the other letters, glanced through the Times,' and made a show of breakfasting.

'Leatherstrap,' said Sir T. Ellesmere, in reply to that worthy man's respectful salutation, Mr. Netherton will not come here on the 1st, nor will he shoot in any of my coverts'-and Sir Thomas emphasized the possessive pronoun- this season. I don't think I

shall shoot either, for I fancy I shall go to Italy.'

'Dunno what's up with Sir Thomas,' remarked Leatherstrap, as Raikes regaled him in the servants' hall previous to his departure with a pint of homebrewed; he's in a reg'lar takin' about summut,' and the speaker blew the head off his ale, and, integer hausit, drained it at a draught. Mr. Frank, I guess, he's been up to some game or other.'

'That's about it,' replied the butler; 'and if so, so much the worse for him. I know when Sir Thomas means business, and if he ever did he does this morning.'

Yes, Mr. Frank Netherton, Sir Thomas Ellesmere's nephew and heir, had married Miss Minnie Lavelle, the actress and the interview which Sir Thomas had a few hours later with Mr. Pippins conclusively proved the baronet-to use Mr. Raikes's expression -did 'mean business,' and resulted in the formal disinheriting of the young gentleman in question.

ACT I.

December had come, and Christmas was close impending. There were to be great doings at Ellesmere Hall. Sir Thomas had returned from the Continent, and the old house was full of guests. There was nothing which pleased Sir Thomas better than playing the role of the grand signor-there was no part in which he was seen to such advantage. By this time he had in great measure contrived to shake off the annoyance which the miserable mésalliance of his nephew had caused. 'Thank God,' mentally ejaculated Sir Thomas, there's a difference of name, and, after all, the disgrace won't be a family one.' Of course there were moments when the truth came out that blood is thicker than water-times when Sir Thomas was anything but happy at the retrospect of the whole business -nay, times when he almost felt disposed to welcome back his nephew, and to extend the right hand of recognition and forgiveness: but the man's nature was stern as iron, and these passing moments of weakness were invariably followed by a reaction of inflexibility.

For the present, he was perfectly contented with the existing condition of affairs. He was an admirable host, and he was pleased with his guests. Who were there? Why almost everyone in the county who was anybody, and no insignificant sprinkling of wellknown metropolitan characters. There were political celebrities, and there

were one or two moderately-effulgent literary stars; the Carlton, the Athenæum, and the Garrick, all had their representatives. There was that extremely winning companion, Charles Merrimac; there was that rising young littérateur, Reginald Graceless, and several other stellæ minores as well as majores of the fashionable firmament. Then, of course, there were, as has been said, the county people. Blanche Fairleigh, that, should have been Frank Netherton's bride, graced the mansion. General Martinet and the Misses Martinet had come. There was the contingent of the three Lytewytte girls; and there was the extremely accomplished Miss Vavasor. Sir Thomas

Ellesmere had intended the gathering to be a success: he had certainly omitted no steps which he possibly could have taken for achieving his ambition.

'Old Ellesmere knows how things ought to be done,' said Charles Merrimac, in the smoking-room: 'for myself, I don't care how long this Christmas is protracted.' Mr. Merrimac fancied, to use his own expression, that he was making the running' at a great pace with Miss Fairleigh; and

hang it,' as he used to say, 'in these hard times an heiress is a godsend. Ellesmere's coverts are certainly splendid, I've played on worse billiard tables than the one here, and certainly never want better dinners or more

unimpeachable Chambertin. I say,

Graceless, how is your company getting on for these theatricals? "Tis your own piece, they tell me, so you ought to coach them well. What's its name?'

Well,' responded that gentleman, 'I had called it originally "Family Feuds," but hearing that Sir Thomas had parted with his nephew recently in terms of anything but cordial amity, and thinking it not impossible that he might take my title as a personal allusion, I have changed it to "Thicker than Water."

Eh?-ah!-what?' said Mr. Merrimac, who was at that moment engaged in building a Spanish castle of gigantic structure, on the strength of Miss Fairleigh's money. 'Oh! I see! devilish good too. Decent caste ?'

'Admirable. Miss Vavasor, who plays the heroine, has real genius; and all the rest, I flatter myself, are more than passable. As for the stage, Nathan, whom I told to be specially careful in the matter, has sent down the best thing which he ever turned out. I've played the part of amateur stage manager more than once before,