As he came nearer, however, she started in astonishment; and, turning quickly to her mother and sister, proclaimed the gentleman in the garden to be no other than "Mr.Francis Clare." The visitor thus announced was the son of Mr.Vanstone's oldest associate and nearest neighbor.
Mr.Clare the elder inhabited an unpretending little cottage, situated just outside the shrubbery fence which marked the limit of the Combe-Raven grounds.

Belonging to the younger branch of a family of great antiquity, the one inheritance of importance that he had derived from his ancestors was the possession of a magnificent library, which not only filled all the rooms in his modest little dwelling, but lined the staircases and passages as well.

Mr.Clare's books represented the one important interest of Mr.Clare's life.

He had been a widower for many years past, and made no secret of his philosophical resignation to the loss of his wife.

As a father, he regarded his family of three sons in the light of a necessary domestic evil, which perpetually threatened the sanctity of his study and the safety of his books.