The park and pleasure grounds, with flushed summer beauty, lay smiling around them.
The song of hundreds of birds trilled through the sweet summer air, the water of many fountains rippled musically, rare flowers charmed the eye and sent forth sweet perfume; but neither song of birds nor fragrance of flowers--neither sunshine nor music--brought any brightness to the grave faces of the father and son.
With slow steps they quitted the broad terrace, and entered the hall.
They passed through a long suite of magnificent apartments, up the broad marble staircase, through long corridors, until they reached the picture gallery, one of the finest in England.

Nearly every great master was represented there.

Murillo, Guido, Raphael, Claude Lorraine, Salvator Rosa, Correggio, and Tintoretto.

The lords of Earlescourt had all loved pictures, and each of them ad added to the treasures of that wonderful gallery.
One portion of the gallery was set aside for the portraits of the family.

Grim old warriors and fair ladies hung side by side; faces of marvelous beauty, bearing the signs of noble descent, shone out clearly from their gilded frames.
"Look, Ronald," Lord Earle said, laying one hand upon his shoulder, "you stand before your ancestors now.