Mr. Havisham drank a little of the glass of port he had poured out for himself, and sat holding it in his hand.

“It is rather difficult to judge of the character of a child of seven,” he said cautiously.

“A fool, is he?” the Earl exclaimed. “Or a clumsy cub? His American blood tells, does it?”

“I do not think it has injured him, my lord,” replied the lawyer in his dry, deliberate[49] fashion. “I don’t know much about children, but I thought him to be rather a fine lad.”

“Healthy and well-grown?” asked my lord.

“Apparently very healthy, and quite well-grown,” replied the lawyer.

“Straight-limbed and well enough to look at?” demanded the Earl.

A very slight smile touched Mr. Havisham’s thin lips.

“Rather a handsome boy, I think, my lord, as boys go,” he said, “though I am hardly a judge, perhaps. But you will find him somewhat different from most English children, I dare say.”

“I haven’t a doubt of that,” snarled the Earl, a twinge of gout seizing him. “A lot of impudent[50] little beggars[51], those American children; I’ve heard that often enough.”

“It is not exactly impudence in his case,” said Mr. Havisham. “I can hardly describe what the difference is. He has lived more with older people than with children, and the difference seems to be a mixture of maturity and childishness.”

“American impudence!” protested the Earl. “I’ve heard of it before. They call it precocity[52] and freedom. Beastly, impudent bad manners; that’s what it is!”

Mr. Havisham drank some more.

“I have a message to deliver from Mrs. Errol,” he remarked.

“I don’t want any of her messages!” growled his lordship; “the less I hear of her the better.”

“This is a rather important one,” explained the lawyer. “She prefers not to accept the income you proposed to settle on her. She says it is not necessary, and that as the relations between you are not friendly-”

“Not friendly!” exclaimed my lord savagely; “I should say they were not friendly! I hate to think of her! A mercenary, sharp-voiced American! I don’t wish to see her.”

“My lord,” said Mr. Havisham, “you can hardly call her mercenary. She has asked for nothing. She does not accept the money you offer her.”

“All done for effect!” snapped his noble lordship. “She wants to trick me into seeing her. She thinks I will admire her spirit. I don’t admire it! I won’t have her living like a beggar at my park gates. As she’s the boy’s mother, she has a position to keep up, and she will keep it up. She will have the money, whether she likes it or not!”

“She won’t spend it,” said Mr. Havisham.

“I don’t care whether she spends it or not!” blustered my lord. “She will have it sent to her. She will not tell people that she has to live like a beggar because I have done nothing for her! She wants to give the boy a bad opinion of me! I suppose she has poisoned his mind against me already!”

“No,” said Mr. Havisham. “I have another message, which will prove to you that she has not done that.”

“I don’t want to hear it!” panted the Earl, out of breath with anger and excitement and gout.

But Mr. Havisham delivered it.

“She asks you not to let Lord Fauntleroy hear anything which would lead him to understand that you separate him from her because of your prejudice against her. She says he will not understand it, and it might make him fear you in some measure, or at least cause him to feel less affection for you. She has told him that he is too young to understand the reason, but will hear it when he is older. She wishes that there should be no shadow on your first meeting.”

The Earl sank back into his chair. His deep-set fierce old eyes gleamed under his brows.

“Come, now!” he said, still breathlessly. “Come, now! You don’t mean the mother hasn’t told him?”

“Not one word, my lord,” replied the lawyer calmly. “That I can assure you. The child is prepared to believe you to be the most friendly and loving of grandparents. Nothing-absolutely nothing has been said to him to give him the slightest doubt of your perfection. And as I carried out your commands in every detail, while in New York, he certainly regards you as a wonder of generosity.”

“He does, eh?” said the Earl.

“I give you my word of honor,” said Mr. Havisham, “that Lord Fauntleroy’s impressions of you will depend entirely upon yourself. And if you will pardon the liberty I take in making the suggestion, I think you will succeed better with him if you take the precaution not to speak badly of his mother.”

It was late in the afternoon when the carriage with little Lord Fauntleroy and Mr. Havisham drove up the long road which led to the castle.

When the carriage reached the great gates of the park, Cedric looked out of the window to get a good view of the huge stone lions ornamenting the entrance. The gates were opened by a motherly, rosy-looking woman, who came out of a pretty lodge.

The carriage rolled on and on between the great, beautiful trees which grew on each side of the road and stretched their broad, swaying branches in an arch across it. Cedric had never seen such trees, – they were so grand and stately, and their branches grew so low down. Every few minutes he saw something new to wonder at and admire. When he caught sight of the deer, some couched in the grass, some standing with their pretty antlered heads turned toward the road as the carriage wheels disturbed them, he was enchanted.

It was not long after this that they saw the castle. It stood up before them stately and beautiful and gray, the last rays of the sun casting dazzling lights on its many windows. Cedric saw the great entrance-door thrown open and many servants standing in two lines looking at him. He wondered why they were standing there. He did not know that they were there to do honor to the little boy to whom all of this would one day belong. At the head of the line of servants there stood an elderly woman in a rich, plain black silk gown; she had gray hair and wore a cap. As he entered the hall she stood nearer than the rest, and the child thought from the look in her eyes that she was going to speak to him. Mr. Havisham, who held his hand, paused for a moment.

“This is Lord Fauntleroy, Mrs. Mellon,” he said. “Lord Fauntleroy, this is Mrs. Mellon, who is the housekeeper.”

Cedric gave her his hand, his eyes lighting up.

“Was it you who sent the cat?” he said. “I’m much obliged to you, ma’am.”

Mrs. Mellon’s handsome old face looked as pleased as the face of the lodge-keeper’s wife had done. She smiled down on him.

“The cat left two beautiful kittens here,” she said; “they will be sent up to your lordship’s nursery.”

Mr. Havisham said a few words to her in a low voice.

“In the library, sir,” Mrs. Mellon replied. “His lordship is to be taken there alone.”

A few minutes later, the very tall footman, who had escorted Cedric to the library door, opened it and announced: “Lord Fauntleroy, my lord,” in quite a majestic tone.

Cedric walked into the room. It was a very large and wonderful room, with massive carven furniture in it, and shelves upon shelves of books. For a moment Cedric thought there was nobody in the room, but soon he saw that by the fire burning on the wide hearth there was a large easy-chair and that in that chair someone was sitting-someone who did not at first turn to look at him.

But he had attracted attention in one quarter at least. On the floor, by the armchair, lay a dog, a huge tawny mastiff, with body and limbs almost as big as a lion’s; and this great creature stood up majestically and slowly, and marched toward the little fellow with a heavy step.