ore!"

But perhaps there was ignorance in that remark too. It has been seen,
for instance, that Miss Swinkerton and her friends could be very
excited, although they had not the excuse of youth, of dreams, or of any
kinship with the Tristrams.

"It's begun!" Cecily said to herself when, three days afterward, they
got out of their third-class carriage and got into the landau that
waited for them. The footman, touching his hat, asked if Miss
Gainsborough had brought a maid. ("The maid," not "A maid," was the form
of reference familiar to Miss Gainsborough.) Her father was in new
black, she was in new black, the two trunks had been well polished; and
the seats of the landau were very soft.

"They don't use the Fitzhubert crest, I observe," remarked Gainsborough.
"Only the Tristram fox. Did you notice it on the harness?"

"I was gazing with all my eyes at the coronet on the panel," she
answered, laughing.

A tall and angular lady came up and spoke to the footman, as he was
about to mount the box.

"At two on Saturday, miss," they heard him reply. Miss Swinkerton
nodded, and walked slowly past the carriage, giving the occupants a
leisurely stare. Of course Miss S. had known the time of the funeral
quite well; now her intimates would be made equally well acquainted with
the appearance of the visitors.

Blent was in full beauty that summer evening, and the girl sat in
entranced silence as they drove by the river and came where the old
house stood. The blinds were down, the escutcheon, with the Tristram fox
again, above the door in the central tower. They were ushered into the
library. Gainsborough's eyes ran over the books with a longing envious
glance; his daughter turned to the window, to look at the Blent and up
to Merrion. A funny remembrance of Sloyd crossed her mind, and she
smiled. Had she already so caught the air of the place that Sloyd seemed
to her both remote and very plebeian? Turning her head, she saw the left
wing with the row of windows that lighted the Long Gallery; she had
never seen such a room in a private house, and thought there must be
several rooms in that wing. A man-servant brought in tea, and told them
that Mr Tristram was engaged in pressing business and begged to be
excused; dinner would be at 8.15. Disappointed at her host's
invisibility, she gave her father tea with a languid air. The little man
was nervous and excited; he walked the carpet carefully; but soon he
pounced on a book--a coun