ared for the
interview, and tried to look very composed as the doors opened, and her
husband ushered in and presented to her Lord and Lady de Mowbray, their
daughters, Lady Firebrace, Mr Jermyn, who still lingered at the castle,
and Mr Alfred Mountchesney and Lord Milford, who were mere passing
guests, on their way to Scotland, but reconnoitering the heiresses in
their course.

Lord de Mowbray was profuse of praise and compliments. His lordship was
apt to be too civil. The breed would come out sometimes. To-day he was
quite the coffee-house waiter. He praised everything: the machinery, the
workmen, the cotton manufactured and the cotton raw, even the smoke. But
Mrs Trafford would not have the smoke defended, and his lordship gave
the smoke up, but only to please her. As for Lady de Mowbray, she was as
usual courteous and condescending, with a kind of smouldering smile on
her fair aquiline face, that seemed half pleasure and half surprise at
the strange people she was among. Lady Joan was haughty and scientific,
approved of much, but principally of the system of ventilation, of which
she asked several questions which greatly perplexed Mrs Trafford, who
slightly blushed, and looked at her husband for relief, but he was
engaged with Lady Maud, who was full of enthusiasm, entered into
everything with the zest of sympathy, identified herself with the
factory system almost as much as she had done with the crusades, and
longed to teach in singing schools, found public gardens, and bid
fountains flow and sparkle for the people.

"I think the works were very wonderful," said Lord Milford, as he was
cutting a pasty; "and indeed, Mrs Trafford, everything here is quite
charming; but what I have most admired at your place is a young girl we
met--the most beautiful I think I ever saw."

"With the most beautiful dog," said Mr Mountchesney.

"Oh! that must have been Sybil!" exclaimed Mrs Trafford.

"And who is Sybil?" asked Lady Maud. "That is one of our family names.
We all thought her quite beautiful."

"She is a child of the house," said Mrs Trafford, "or rather was, for I
am sorry to say she has long quitted us."

"Is she a nun?" asked Lord Milford, "for her vestments had a conventual
air."

"She has just left your convent at Mowbray," said Mr Trafford,
addressing his answer to Lady Maud, "and rather against her will. She
clings to the dress she was accustomed to there."

"And now she resides with you?"

"No; I should