ur astonishingly
valuable and even beautiful pictures by masters of the eighteenth
century English school. For all its impressive grandeur, the long
table, covered with a rare piece of Italian brocade, was, with the
single carved chair set at the distant end, a barren table, indeed, for
a man whom Miss Bancroft knew to be possessed of one of the warmest,
tenderest and most affection-craving hearts in the whole world.

"Principles--fiddlesticks!" she observed aloud. "Tst!"

A living-room, in which no one ever lived, a writing-room, in which no
one ever wrote, and long halls, wainscoted in dark oak and quiet as
those of a college library, whose silence was never broken by the light
staccato footsteps of gay feet, or the murmur of roguish voices. But
the air of pathos which all these things wore seemed to rise from the
fact that they had been planned and secured not for the enjoyment of a
lonely old man, but for some happy purpose that had never been
realized. They seemed to wear an expression of disappointment, even of
apology for existing so uselessly.

"Tut! How can anyone be patient with a man of principles," again
commented Miss Bancroft; but her face had grown a little sad.

She was rocking gently back and forth in the shade of the cool stone
porch, when the sound of footsteps at last reached her ears, and she
looked up with the warm smile of a guest who knows she is always
welcome.

"Elizabeth! This is a very great pleasure. I thought you had
forgotten me!"

"You deserve to be forgotten, my dear friend. Ah, now you've disarmed
me, though. I've just conscience enough to have to tell you that I've
come this time with ulterior motives."

"I can find fault with no motives of yours, so long as they prompt you
to visit me. I look forward to my little chats with you as a child
looks forward to his Saturday treats."

"My dear Tom, your gift of saying delightful things is one of the
wonders of the age. Here you never see a woman from one year's end to
the other, and yet you can turn a compliment as charmingly as though
you practised on the fairest in the land every evening of your life."

"'In my youth, said the Father----'" quoted the old gentleman with a
twinkle. "However, let's hear your ulterior motives first, my dear
Elizabeth, so that afterwards we can chat with unburdened minds."

"No--no, I refuse to beard you until we have some tea. Thank goodness,
here's William bringing it now. I took the